


I Tried to Tell You, But All I Could Say

by therumjournals



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pinto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therumjournals/pseuds/therumjournals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zach’s new boyfriend sends Chris’s emotions into turmoil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Tried to Tell You, But All I Could Say

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: infidelity, drinking/mention of alcohol abuse, manipulative/abusive behavior, explicit scenes featuring OMC, dubcon (while drunk), non-con (attempted)

 

 

 

As it turned out, Chris watched the moment his life changed from the balcony of his apartment. He’d called Zach to find out where he was, make sure he could find parking, and Zach answered, out of breath and flustered. 

“Hey, Chris, hold on a sec…got my hands full.” Chris heard the car door slam. “I’m right outside. Fuck-“

Chris slid open the glass doors and stepped up to the edge of the balcony. Glancing down, he could make out Zach’s figure in the dim light, kneeling on the ground, the phone pressed to his ear as he attempted to gather up the papers that he’d dropped across the sidewalk. His travel mug rolled a few feet away and as Zach lifted his head to watch it, the phone fell with a clatter to the concrete. Chris heard Zach mutter a curse and was about to call out to him, something with just the right measure of sarcasm and sympathy, when he saw a figure step out from the shadow of the building and lean down to pick up the mug. 

“This one almost got away,” the stranger said, a smile evident in his voice. 

“Thanks,” Zach murmured, glancing up. He did a double take and stood effortlessly, leaving a handful of papers strewn about his feet. “Thank you,” he said again, a smile crossing his lips as he accepted the mug from the stranger’s hand. 

“Not a problem.” They looked at each other for a long moment, then the stranger leaned down to pick up the rest of the wayward papers while Zach stared stupidly. Chris rolled his eyes.

“You live around here?” the guy asked as he stood, papers in hand. 

“No.”

“Visiting a friend?”

“Yeah,” Zach said slowly. He tilted his head, his voice suddenly interested. “You?”

“Nah. Just checking out the neighborhood. Lucky for you.”

“Right.” Zach took the rest of his papers and tucked them under his arm. He gave the guy another look, considering. “Look, I don’t give out my number, but if you want to give me yours, I’d love to give you a call sometime.”

The guy smiled – or, he was still smiling, the corner of his lips curled up enough that the light caught the gleaming white of a canine, and Chris thought he looked almost predatory as he took a step closer to Zach. “Got a pen?” Zach handed him one and he leaned forward, his hair brushing Zach’s chin as he leaned down to scrawl his number across one of Zach’s papers. 

“Cool,” Zach breathed, as he finished writing and stepped back. 

“Hope to hear from you,” came the answer, as the guy gave a final grin and turned to walk away.

A minute later Chris opened the door with a scowl to find Zach bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. He pushed into the apartment to flop down on the couch, dumping his papers and mug on the coffee table.

“What are you so excited about?” Chris grumbled. 

“Dylan,” Zach said, reading the handwriting across the top of the page of script. He glanced up at Chris. “When I was outside just now, I dropped my shit all over the sidewalk-“

“I heard.”

“-and this guy just like magically appears and is all ‘Hello, I am gorgeous and dreamy, let me bend over for you’-“

He totally had _not_ said that.

“-and he gave me his number.” Zach stared dreamily into space for a moment. “He was seriously hot, Chris. He had this gorgeous smile.”

“Sounds awesome,” Chris said flatly. “So, did you want to get Thai or sushi?”

Zach shook himself out of his trance and turned his focus back to Chris. “Sushi sounds great.”

“You wanna look at the menu?”

“Nah, you order. You know what I like.”

Zach seemed to forget about Dylan for a while, to Chris’s immense relief. They ate sushi and poked each other with chopsticks and gossiped, before finally turning their attention to the ostensible reason Zach was there, to do some audition prep for a play he was aiming for that summer. That lasted all of about 20 minutes before Zach threw his pencil in the air and slumped back into the couch cushions. 

“What’s my motivation,” he sighed. 

“Um, to get the part?” Chris suggested. 

“I guess,” Zach sighed. He picked up the script again, flipped idly through the pages. “I have to cry in this scene,” he said, jabbing a finger at the page. “I hate crying, I’m such an ugly crier.”

Chris snorted, he couldn’t help himself. And only partly at the ridiculous notion that anything Zach did could make him ugly.

“What?”

“Oh please. Don’t try to deny that you’ve spent hours standing in front of a mirror, trying to get that one manly tear to slide down your cheek.”

Zach crossed his arms and slumped a little farther into the cushions. 

“See? You’ve already perfected the art of manly pouting,” Chris observed. 

“Whatever,” Zach said, rolling his eyes. “I can’t focus.” His eyes darted to the page of script that lay on the coffee table. “I want to call Dylan.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You can’t call him, you met him, like, four hours ago. Don’t you want to let him quiver in anticipation for a while?”

“I’d rather see him quivering in my bed after I fuck him senseless,” Zach pointed out.

Chris shuddered and made a sound of disgust. Zach grinned. “Sorry. Had to be done. You’re just so cute when you’re all flustered by the gay.”

“I’m not _flustered_ , I just really don’t need that image in my mind, ever.”

“Please, consider it my boner killing gift to you.” Zach stood up and started gathering his things. 

“What, you’re really going?”

“I’m really going. I can’t concentrate.”

“Want to watch TV or something?”

“Nah. I think I’ll go get some sleep so I can wake up refreshed, go to yoga, and spend the rest of the day planning what to wear for my date with Dylan.”

“You don’t _know_ you’re going to have a date with him.”

Zach gave him a look from the doorway. “Come on, Chris. Have a little faith.”

“Wait, Zach-“ Chris heaved himself up from where he’d been sitting on the floor. He could feel Zach watching him impatiently as he crossed the room to his bookcase, reached behind his boxed set of _The Wire_ , and pulled out a VHS tape labeled Berkeley Summerfest.

He turned to Zach, clutching the tape with both hands.

“What’s that?” Zach asked skeptically.

“This,” Chris said, holding the tape a little closer to his chest, “is classified material. I normally wouldn’t let it out of my sight, but given our conversation this evening, I wanted to share it with you.” And because he was feeling some strange need to remind Zach of his place in Chris’s life, which was apparently a place of trust, and of opening oneself up for mockery. “You want to talk about ugly crying, watch this,” he said, tapping the case. “It’s a one-act I was in, summer after freshman year of college. My eyes were supposed to brim with tears or something, and I was terrible at it in rehearsals, so the director told me to think of something sad during the performance. Somehow I thought it would be a good idea to think about my dog dying, and I started sobbing and snotting all over myself during the performance. And of course my dad filmed the whole thing. If you listen closely, you can hear him dying of embarrassment.”

Zach was grinning widely now, reaching out to make grabby hands for the tape. Chris handed it over slowly. 

“Seriously, Zach. That is for your eyes only.”

“You can trust in my discretion, good sir,” Zach assured him. “And now I must away,” he said airily, waiving a hand, “to sleep, perchance to dream, of getting my freak on with young Dylan, while my sweet Christopher sobs great snotty tears in the background.” He breezed through the doorway and shut it with a click before Chris could recover himself enough to respond.

Chris made it to the balcony just as the building door opened, spilling light onto the sidewalk.

“Zach!”

Zach glanced up at him.

“You have problems, you know that, right?”

Zach grinned and blew him a kiss with his free hand before the door closed, and Chris lost sight of him in the darkness.

Chris sighed and headed back into the apartment, ignoring the mess of takeout containers in the living room in favor of flopping down on his bed. He palmed his crotch absently over his basketball shorts and raised an eyebrow. 

Apparently his boner had survived the evening after all.

**

Chris was just getting back from a lunch meeting when Zach called.

“You are not calling to tell me about your date.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Ugh, fine, don’t hang up.”

“Okay,” Zach said cheerily. He probably hadn’t even moved the phone away from his ear. “So you want to hear about it?”

“Skip the gross parts.”

“Oh, believe me, there was _nothing_ gross about his parts.”

“I’m hanging up now,” Chris threatened, not moving the phone.

“Fine, fine. We went out for drinks at Red Lion. Today we went shopping and had lunch.”

“That’s it?”

“You don’t want to hear about the rest.”

“Ugh.” Chris could hear Zach waiting. He gave in. “So you like him?”

“Yeah, I kinda do.” The wistful smile was evident in his voice. “He’s funny, he’s nice, he’s a really good-“

“Stop.”

“He’s a really good _conversationalist_ , I was going to say,” Zach finished. 

“Sure you were.”

“…also he’s got a huge dick.”

Chris hung up on him.

**

“Hello?”

“You hung up on me!”

“Zach, that was like a week ago.”

“It was 5 days, and I’ve been busy.”

“Dylan?”

“Yeah,” Zach sighed happily. “I want you to meet him.”

“Wow, you’re at the meeting friends stage already?” Chris asked, surprised.

“Well…no, not really. Just you.”

“I’m honored.” Lucky him.

“So we should go out or something. You free Saturday night?”

“Yeah, okay. Anything that involves drinking would be great.”

“Sweet, because I’ve really been wanting to go to that new place-“

“No bowling.”

“But it’s-“

“Even if it’s Cosmic Bowling.”

“Okay. I’ll think of something else to do then.”

Chris rubbed his eyes and let Zach’s silence goad him through the phone. “Okay, fine, we’ll go bowling and I’ll meet your new boytoy-“

“Boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend, _really_?”

“Um, I mean, well, not yet, I guess, I just-“ Chris usually reveled in the rare occasions when he managed to get Zach all flustered, but right now he just felt slightly ill.

“Right, well, we’ll go bowling and you guys can wear your matching shirts and you can buy me drinks all night and it’ll be a grand time.”

He heard Zach let out a relieved breath. “Thanks, Chris.”

“Yeah, yeah. Give me a call on Saturday, alright?”

“Yeah, okay. See you.”

**

Chris prepared for Saturday night by not thinking about it at all until about an hour before he was planning to leave his place. Which was exactly when Zach called to say that Dylan had had a long day at work and was really exhausted, and could they maybe just come over and watch a movie instead?

“Are you kidding me, no, my place is a fucking mess,” Chris said, casting an eye over the papers and dirty dishes littering his coffee table.

“So? I don’t care. And neither does Dylan, you don’t have to try to impress him.”

“Um, I’m not trying to impress him. I just wasn’t really planning to have guests over.”

“Come on, Chris. You didn’t even want to go bowling and now you don’t have to! And you’re always bugging me to come over and hang out.”

“Yeah, _you_ , Zach. Not you and random dudes you literally met on the street.”

“What the hell? I don’t really understand what your problem is, but fine, nevermind, we’ll just stay here. I just…I really wanted you to meet him.”

Zach sounded quiet and pathetic and Chris ground his teeth together for a second before he gave in. “Ugh, _fine_. Come over, whatever.”

He could practically hear Zach jumping with glee. “Yes! Thank you, Chris. You don’t even have to do anything. We’ll pick up food and a movie and beer-“

“Lots of beer.”

“Yes, okay, lots of beer. Seriously, thank you Chris. You’re the best.”

“No shit.”

**

Chris opened the door to find Zach balancing a pizza box and waggling his eyebrows as he offered up a six-pack of beer, and a flood of happiness surged through Chris, lighting up his face with a smile before he remembered the whole purpose of this little hangout. Then Zach turned and gestured with his head and Dylan stepped forward shyly.

“This is Dylan,” Zach said. “Dylan, this is Chris.”

Chris extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Dylan.”

Dylan shook his hand and Chris tried to ignore the look of wide-eyed wonder on the guy’s stupidly well-proportioned face. “Chris Pine…wow. Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just really cool to meet you, man.”

“Yeah,” Chris said, dropping his hand and grabbing the pizza box from Zach. “Come on in, guys.”  
They set everything down on the coffee table and stood looking at each other awkwardly for a long second. “So, uh,” Chris started, looking desperately at Zach for some help. 

Dylan spoke up first instead. “Nice place,” he said, glancing around. “I’ve actually been looking at some apartments in this area. Mind giving me the grand tour?”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” Chris said, because it was better than standing there, and Zach still wasn’t being any help whatsoever. Chris showed Dylan the kitchen, then led him down the hall, pointing out the bathroom and opening the door to the bedroom so they could peek inside. 

“So this is where the magic happens, huh?” Dylan said, grinning.

“Not lately,” Zach murmured, his expression morphing into innocence as Chris shot him a glare. 

“I don’t believe that for one second,” Dylan said loudly, slapping a hand on Chris’s shoulder with a confident familiarity that caught Chris off guard.

“No, Zach’s right, I mean, I’ve been working and-“ What the fuck, why was he talking? Maybe he shouldn’t have had those three “preparation” beers.

“Well, yeah, okay, as long as you tell me it’s voluntary then,” Dylan continued. “Because I’m sure you could get anyone you wanted in here. And if you ever want to test that theory, you just let us know,” he said, nudging Zach and winking. Zach frowned a little, which was weird, because if Karl or John had said it, Chris knew Zach would be winking too, and making some crack about his man-ginity. But instead Zach tugged Dylan out of the doorway and suggested they get back to the living room before the pizza got cold. Which sounded like a damn good idea.

Pizza was a good idea, as was beer. Watching a movie, however, with the lights dimmed and the three of them sitting awkwardly across Chris’s lumpy couch, was less than ideal. It didn’t help that Dylan had somehow ended up between him and Zach, which meant that Zach’s fingers kept brushing against Chris whenever he stroked Dylan’s shoulder. Chris flinched away, but he was up against the end of the couch and Dylan’s leg was pressed along the length of his thigh and did he _really_ need to sit like that, the couch wasn’t _that_ small. Chris tried to be subtle about shifting around, so he kept reaching for his beer and setting it back down until Zach told him to just hold onto the bottle already. Chris grunted and tried to shove himself as far into the corner of the couch as he could.

The moment the credits rolled, Chris was up off the couch, hitting the lights, glancing at his watch, and faking a yawn. Not that Zach and Dylan noticed, since they were still cuddled together on the sofa, their heads close as they talked and giggled in low tones. He was about to say something when Zach looked up at him with something almost apologetic in his eyes. “Chris, man, I’m sorry.”

For a second Chris was surprised. Was Zach really going to apologize for this debacle already, with Dylan right here? 

“Someone recommended that movie to me, I honestly didn’t mean to subject you guys to such crap.”

Oh. “Heh. Yeah. I would say I was worried about your taste there for a sec but then I remembered that’s par for the course.” He grinned, relieved that he’d managed to sound like himself.

“Hey, he was right about _Bottleshock_!” Dylan interjected. “We watched it last week, I hadn’t seen it.”

Chris raised an eyebrow and Zach poked Dylan in the side. “Dyl, I told you not to tell him that.”

Dyl? Seriously? “Uh, thanks. Maybe next week we can all hang out and watch our favorite episodes of _So NoTORIous_.”

Zach gave him the finger as he stood up from the couch and stretched and Dylan laughed. “Wait, what’s _So NoTORIous_?”

Chris stared at him. “Are you kidding me? It’s Zach’s _piece de resistance_ , the pinnacle of his acting career!”

“Oh fuck you,” Zach said. He looked at Dylan. “There’s a reason I didn’t tell you about it.”

Chris laughed and pointed to Dylan. “Seriously, dude, you have to watch it. It’s a crucial part of your education in how to annoy Zach.” Something in which he was very well versed, he thought with a certain amount of pride.

Zach rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. He acts like he hates that show, yet he’s worn a hole in his fucking DVR re-watching my scenes.”

“You can’t wear a hole in a DVR,” Chris scoffed. “Wait. Can you?”

“Bye, Chris.” Zach had one hand on Dylan’s back as he pulled the door open with the other. “Thanks for hanging out.”

“Yeah, no problem. I mean, of course. Nice to meet you, Dylan.”

“Likewise,” said Dylan, flashing him that distracting smile just before he turned to follow Zach.

Chris closed the door behind them and leaned his forehead against the cool wood. “Yeah,” he said to himself. “That is fucking never happening again.”

**

“So?! What did you think?” Zach was back in Chris’s doorway the next morning, holding coffee and looking far too perky for Chris to stomach. Chris glared at him from under sleep-rumpled hair, grabbed the coffee from his hand, and turned around. Zach followed him into the living room and sat down next to him on the couch, legs tucked up under him.

“He seems nice,” Chris mumbled non-committally, taking a sip of coffee.

“That’s it? I mean, do you think he’s, like, a cool guy? Would you hang out with him again?”

Chris stared at him. “You do realize last night was awkward as fuck, right? I mean, I know you’re a little pre-occupied, but you’re not that oblivious.”

Zach bit his lip. “I guess so…sorry. Bowling probably would have been better.”

Plucking his nut-hairs would probably have been better. “Yeah, probably.”

Zach shook his head. “For some reason I just really thought you guys would hit it off. He likes the same things you like. I thought you’d be all, ‘Zach, that dude is _awesome_!’” 

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. It’s always awesome when dudes start things off by suggesting a threesome. That’s always really fun and comfortable.”

“He was joking, Chris, jeez. Have a sense of humor.”

“It was weird, Zach. I mean, he said that literally five minutes after we met.”

“Oh, so, like, you prefer to wait until the third or fourth meeting to bring up the threesomes?”

“Ha ha.”

“He’s just really open about that stuff. Like two hours into our first date we somehow ended up at like, hottest sexual situations we’ve ever been in. He doesn’t really care about stigmas and all that.”

“Mmm, yeah. I could tell by the hemp necklace.”

“Plus he was kind of nervous to meet you,” Zach continued, ignoring him. “I wasn’t sure I should tell you this, but…he owns a copy of _Just My Luck_.”

“Of everything I’ve heard about this guy, Zach, that is the most disturbing.”

“I know, right? It was almost a dealbreaker. I told him that right before he gave me this amazing bl-“

“You’d fucking better be about to say _blouse_ , or I am kicking you out.”

Zach laughed. “Sure. That’s what I meant.” He went quiet for a second, glancing at Chris out of the corner of his eye. “Look, I’m sorry things got off to an awkward start, but I really think you’d like him if you talked to him a little more.”

“Oh really, like about our hottest sexual situations?”

“No.” Zach laughed nervously. “I mean, like, he’s a huge Lakers fan, and he wants to drag me to that new sports bar to watch a game sometime this week.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. 

“Come with.”

“Hell no.” 

“Please. For me.”

“ _Why_ , Zach? I thought you liked him!”

“I _do_ like him!” 

“Then why do you care what I think? Why does it matter so much?”

“Because I want you to be happy for me! I…ugh, fuck, don’t make me say it, Chris.” He scrubbed his hands over his face.

Warmth bloomed in Chris’s chest as he realized what Zach was admitting. “You want my approval.”

Zach rolled his eyes. “Sure, fine, whatever you want to call it.” He glanced at Chris. “And get that smug little grin off your face.”

Chris tried, he really did.

“It’s not just that,” Zach continued. “I want him to get to know _you_ , too. I want him to get why we’re friends so he doesn’t get all weird when I want to hang out with just you.” Zach bounced his knee nervously and gave Chris a pleading look. “I want you both in my life, okay? I don’t want to have to choose between you.”

Chris saw the distress in Zach’s eyes and realized that this was a real concern, something Zach must have dealt with before. Not with Chris - he’d never gotten serious with anyone during Trek, and he’d been in New York the last time he had a serious boyfriend. But the fact that he was so worried about it now, about fitting a boyfriend and Chris into his life, made something stutter in Chris’s chest, and he swallowed hard. 

“Okay.”

“Yeah? You’ll come?”

“Yes, I’ll come.”

“And you’ll talk to Dylan and try to get to know him?”

“Fine. We’ll bond over Shannon Brown’s sick dunks.”

Zach shook his head in feigned confusion. “I don’t know what that means, is that a sports thing?”

Chris laughed as he felt his chest loosen, the seriousness of their previous conversation sliding away. “Shut the fuck up.”

**

The sports bar was trendy and crowded, but the wings were delicious and the TV took up an entire wall, so it wasn’t the worst place to watch a game. Or to attempt awkward small talk with Dylan, while Zach tried to act like he wasn’t watching them eagerly for signs of BFF-ness. To be fair, having the game as background did make conversation a little easier. Dylan’s observations of the players and the Lakers’ season were somewhat trite, but he knew enough about basketball to engage Chris in a heated debate about a botched call late in the second quarter. 

“You’d better watch it, or I’ll start thinking you’re a closet Clippers fan,” Chris joked. He picked up his beer and took a long sip, ending the conversation. Zach had gotten bored and wandered off, and Chris found himself scanning the crowd at the bar, looking for him amongst the frat boys and blonde model-actresses by their sides. 

“See anything you like?” Dylan asked, pulling Chris’s attention away from the bar as he pointedly eyed one of the blonder, bustier waitresses sweeping by them with a tray of drinks.

“Uh. Sure,” Chris said, taking a second to admire the low cut of her tank top.

“Go get her.”

Chris raised an eyebrow at Dylan. “What?”

“I don’t know, like, follow her into the kitchen and ask for her number or something. You’re Chris Pine, man! I bet you could just, like, wink at her, and she’d be on her knees in the bathroom begging to give you a bj.”

Chris was pretty sure his mouth had dropped open as he stared at Dylan. “Um,” he managed. “That’s, uh…that’s not really my style?” He took another swig of beer while he tried to figure out if this guy was for real.

“Really? You should give it a try sometime. Ever been to Cecconi’s?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I picked up the hottest waiter there. Arturo. Northern Italian, you know? Brown hair, blue eyes…” He glanced at Chris with a small smile before he continued. “He took me back in the stockroom and fucked me against the shelves using olive oil for lube.” Dylan’s eyes were half closed and he moaned a little at the memory. “Fuck. I came all over this sack of potatoes. Damn, that was some freaky hot shit.”

“You really like to share, don’t you?” Chris asked, half in exasperation and half in amusement. 

Dylan gave him a knowing smirk. “Yeah. I guess I do.” He twisted around in his seat. “Where the hell’d Zach go?”

Chris had been wondering the same thing, so he was relieved when Zach finally appeared a few seconds later with a bucket of Coronas. 

“Hey, sorry guys. Got a phone call I had to take. I also ordered us some nachos, hope that’s cool.”

“Awesome,” Chris agreed. He glanced away as Dylan threw an arm around Zach’s shoulders and pulled him in for a quick kiss. 

“Did I miss anything?” Zach asked, smiling at Dylan.

“Dylan was just telling me about some of his exploits,” Chris said dryly, hoping Zach could pick up the implied ‘I told you so’. 

“Arturo,” Dylan clarified, giving Zach a meaningful look.

“Ah yes, Arturo,” Zach said, laughing. Chris frowned momentarily, but he managed to clear his expression before Zach noticed. It was fine, he told himself. He and Zach had their inside jokes, too, almost four years of them as a matter of fact. He knew at least five phrases that would, with no context whatsoever, drive Zach into a laughter-induced coughing fit. So if Zach and Dylan shared a smile over something it was no big deal. He was fine. And he was fucking glad that the nachos had arrived.

“How’s the game?” Zach asked. Chris couldn’t answer, as he was busy stuffing a cheese-smothered tortilla chip into his mouth. 

“It’s alright. Kobe’s off his game, if you ask me.” 

Chris rolled his eyes as he chased the nacho with a gulp of beer. “No he’s not,” he said, shaking his head and wiping a hand over his mouth. “He’s been picking up a ton of points in the second half recently. Just wait.”

Dylan grinned at him. “If you say so.” He nudged Zach with his elbow.

“What?”

Dylan gave him a pointed look and gestured across the table at Chris.

“Oh. Right.” Zach flashed an apologetic smile at Chris, who shoved another nacho in his mouth in response. “So Chris, I was wondering. Um…do you think it would be possible to get Dylan and me tix to a Lakers game?”

Chris rushed to swallow his half-chewed nacho before he could choke. “Did you just say ‘tix’?” he asked, grinning. “O-M-G, you totes did!”

Zach made a face. “Shut up. So can you?”

Chris shrugged. “Why don’t you just call the ticket office and buy some like a normal person?”

“Because I meant for those courtside seats you always get. I thought you had a guy.”

“A guy?” Chris did, in fact, have a guy he could call who could usually get him great seats in the cheerleaders’ ass viewing section, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to start abusing that connection. 

“Chris, come _on_ ,” Zach whined. His mouth quirked up in a flirtatious smile. “You know how much I love basketball!”

Chris snorted, and Zach grinned a little wider, knowing he’d won. “Fine, fucker, I’ll see if I can get you guys tickets. Sorry, _tix_. Might have to be against a shitty team though. I think the Sixers will be in town next week.”

“Fine, awesome, we don’t care who they’re playing, right Dyl?”

Dylan shot Chris a grateful smile. “Nah, we don’t care. As long as we can get a nice view of those cheerleaders,” he added with a wink.

Chris shook his head, but somehow the idea of bringing Zach and Dylan to a Lakers game didn’t seem so bad anymore. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

**

“Are you kidding me?! No, Zach. No, no, no, no, no.”

“Please, Chris! For me?” Zach pleaded. Chris could practically hear him making puppy dog eyes through the phone.

“I’m sorry, Zach. You’ve used up your favors when it comes to Dylan. I’m done.”

“So, what? You’re just going to let the tickets go to waste?”

Honestly, it was tempting, considering the alternative. “Look, Zach, it’s one thing for the three of us to hang out, and I appreciate that you want us to get along and I’m willing to work with you on that. But spending three hours with Dylan, without you? Listening to some story about how he got fucked by some jock in a locker room or some other bullshit? I’m sorry, but I did not sign up for that.”

Zach took a second to answer. “Alright,” he said, and Chris’s eyebrows jumped. He’d expected Zach to at least try one last pleading “ _for me?_ ” but it looked like he was finally willing to see Chris’s side. “I understand. I’ll give Dylan a call and tell him…I don’t know, I’ll tell him you can’t go because you have the flu or something.”

Fucking Zach. Guilt was pooling in Chris’s gut, now he was making Zach lie to his boyfriend just because Chris couldn’t bear to put up with the guy for three hours. Not that he’d ever even tried to hang out with Dylan without Zach being there. Maybe Dylan would be different away from Zach, maybe when the three of them were together he was just…trying too hard, or something. There was only one way to find out.

“Okay, FINE,” he burst, rolling his eyes at his capitulation. “I’ll go. Have fun at your gala or whatever.”

“I’m speaking at a fundraiser for an LGBT youth shelter.”

“Yeah. That.”

“Right. Anyway, Dylan’s car’s in the shop, so what time should I tell him you’ll pick him up for the game?”

Fucking hell.

**

Chris honked his horn a third time. Where the fuck was Dylan? Maybe he’d slipped in the shower and broken a leg. Chris smiled at the thought and immediately felt bad about it. Maybe he’d just sprained an ankle. 

Or not, because here he was, jogging down the driveway though Chris hadn’t even seen him come out of the house. Dylan pulled the passenger side door open with an apologetic smile. “Hi, Chris. Sorry about that. I was doing my hair.”

Chris glanced at Dylan’s hair, which looked like absolutely nothing had been done to it. Then again, that was probably the point. He glanced back at the house as he pulled away from the curb. “Nice place. You own or rent?”

“Oh, um. Housesitting, actually. No rent, free cable. It’s a great deal.”

“Oh right. You still looking for an apartment?”

“Huh?” Dylan looked confused.

“In Silver Lake? You said you were looking in the area?”

“Oh, right,” he said, breaking into a grin. “Yeah, sure. Any openings in your complex?”

“No.” And he sure as hell wouldn’t tell him if there were, he thought, ignoring a brief pang of guilt.

They got on the freeway, and for a while the classic rock playing softly from the radio was the only sound, which was fine by Chris. Dylan was the first to speak.

“So, weird question,” he started, glancing at Chris out of the corner of his eye. “You’re straight, right?”

Chris laughed in surprise. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Right. I figured. I mean, I asked Zach before and that’s what he said. Well, I believe his exact quote was, ‘He’s so straight, he gets nervous eating a hot dog.’”

Chris tried to hold his smile, but he felt his lips twist as he swallowed. “I don’t…heh…”

Dylan was looking at him curiously. “Yeah, you know, it’s weird, because I totally got this vibe…I mean, that’s why I asked Zach in the first place.”

“A vibe?” He kept the question polite, clenching his fists on the steering wheel so he wouldn’t give into the urge to dump Dylan and his _vibe_ on the side of the fucking freeway.

“Yeah. Like actually I was wondering if you guys ever…ya know.”

No, he didn’t know. “Wait, what? You thought Zach and I-“

“Had a thing, yeah. I mean, the way you guys are around each other, I would have bet money on the fact that you’d hooked up at some point.” 

“The way we are…?”

“You know. Like the way you guys go back and forth, it’s kinda…flirty or whatever.”

It’s called _banter_ , fuckface, Chris thought, grinding his teeth. He genuinely _liked_ talking to Zach the way they did, exchanging barbs and witticisms and SAT words. It wasn’t _flirting_. Then again, Dylan probably wasn’t capable of understanding that conversation could serve a purpose other than foreplay.

“No, we never had a ‘thing’,” Chris said, hoping that would put an end to this particular line of questioning. Not that Dylan seemed pissed, or even jealous. More…intrigued. Probably ‘cause it would give him some level of satisfaction to be fucking the guy Chris had a thing for. Or used to have a thing with, or whatever it was that he’d said. 

Chris tensed a little waiting for Dylan’s response, but he only nodded and said “Oh, okay,” and Chris let himself relax.

“So you’ve never done anything with guys? Like, not even experimented in college or anything?”

That didn’t last long, Chris thought, tensing up again. And why the hell was it so unbelievable to everyone that a guy could actually graduate Berkeley without taking an elective in Homosexuality 101? 

Well. He knew why.

“Not really.” Shit.

“Not _really_?” Dylan said, turning more fully in his seat to look at Chris. 

Chris shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “I kissed a guy…once. Kinda.” Dylan didn’t say anything, but Chris could tell that he was dying to hear more. “I went to this LGBT student mixer with a friend of mine freshman year, and got drunk and I was trying to get this guy interested in my friend, but then the guy kissed _me_ -“ Why, _why_ was he telling Dylan this? He hadn’t even told Zach about that. Not that it was worth telling, for fuck’s sake, the guy had been, like, totally hitting on everyone at the party, and he’d been tiny and fey with spiky blond hair and looked _nothing_ like Zach and – and why the fuck had that thought even entered his mind? 

Chris shifted gears and changed lanes a little more abruptly than necessary, scowling straight ahead. He could tell Dylan was suppressing a smile, obviously enjoying Chris’s distress. Seriously though, fuck Dylan for dragging up these stupid memories and making him have these weird thoughts about Zach. He fucking knew this was a bad idea.

Thankfully they were at the stadium now, pulling up to the valet station so Chris could yank off his seatbelt and get out of the car, handing his keys to the attendant and striding toward the stadium, not really caring if Dylan even managed to keep up. He did, though, and then they were inside, being led to their courtside seats as Dylan stared around them in awe. 

“Shit, Chris, these seats are amazing! This is _sick_!” 

Chris stifled a smile at Dylan’s eagerness, feeling a surge of pride. Yeah, okay, this was one of the perks of celebrity. And it felt kind of cool being able to show it off.

“So, should we go get some food or something?” Dylan asked, after he’d spent a few minutes shifting around in his seat trying to see everything.

“Nah, they’ll come get our order.”

Dylan’s eyes opened a little wider. “Seriously? Dude, this is the _life_.” 

Chris ordered a hot dog out of spite. He could feel Dylan’s eyes on him as he ate it, and it made his cheeks burn and his mouth go dry, and he had to choke it down with huge swallows of beer. He signaled the waitress for a refill, and when she came over Dylan flashed her a smile and asked if he could order the Italian sausage. When she left, he leaned in to murmur, “You should try one, Chris. Bet they’re _delicious_.”

Chris gulped at his beer, trying to ignore Dylan’s suggestive words and the images that he couldn’t stop from flashing through his mind. He stared desperately at the cheerleaders, but a few seconds later they were skipping off the court and the Lakers were running on, shorts swishing across their broad thighs, their crotches at eye-level. A whistle blew and the players were in motion, feet pounding on the court, the sound of shouting ringing in his ears as he finished his drink and tried to focus on the game.

*

“Chris, whoa, you okay, man?” Dylan asked, reaching out a hand to grab Chris’s shoulder as he swayed a little on his feet. 

“Yeah, m’fine,” Chris mumbled. He let Dylan tug him to the side of the corridor, out of the way of the jostling crowd.

“You sure?”

Yeah, he was sure. Pretty sure. He was fine. He’d had a few beers, but fuck, who could blame him. By the third beer, he’d been able to relax, which was also when the waitress had brought Dylan his Italian sausage. And okay, yeah, maybe Chris had stared a little, watching the way Dylan’s lips wrapped around the sandwich, the way his eyes fluttered shut a little at the first taste. Fuck it, it was only because Dylan had put the idea in his mind in the first place that he even thought of it, that he even noticed the way Dylan let out a little moan and licked the mustard from his bottom lip. Chris turned back toward the court, his palms suddenly damp, blood rushing in his ears as he hastily swallowed down the rest of his beer.

After that it had gotten easier. The game was close and the refs were terrible, so they had something to talk about again. Zach texted them both during halftime, and Dylan suggested they switch phones to fuck with him for a while. Chris was drunk enough to go along with it, giggling as he typed. 

“What’d you say?” Dylan asked, leaning over his lap to look at the screen. 

“I told him I was enjoying the crotchside seats and that the balls look so much bigger from this angle. Oh, gross,” he said as he read Zach’s response. “He says he knows you love big balls and he’s not worried about the competition.” Chris glanced at Dylan. “I so did not need to know that.”

Dylan chuckled and bumped their shoulders together, turning back to Chris’s phone.

“What about you?”

“I said ‘Your boyfriend is a so hot, you owe me for keeping my hands off him’.” 

“Oh please,” Chris snorted. “He’ll know it’s not me.”

“Oh come on, you know you were thinking it,” Dylan joked. He glanced at the phone as a text came in. “’Dylan, give Chris back his phone’,” he read. “Fuck!”

Chris grinned. “Told you.” He looked down at Dylan’s phone in his hands and laughed. 

“What?”

“He said, ‘Ew, Chris, why are you writing to me about balls? Go grope a cheerleader.’ Hey.” He frowned at the screen.

“Write back and ask him if he still has his pom-poms,” Dylan said, leaning close. 

Chris typed it and hit send, giggling. He shook his head and squinted at the phone. “I don’t even know what that means.”

Dylan leaned in closer. “No one knows what it means, but it’s provocative,” he said, sending them into another paroxysm of laughter. Chris still had no idea what was quite so funny, but it felt good to laugh, to let go a little. “Oh hey look,” Dylan said, gesturing toward the court. “Game happening.”

“Oh right,” Chris said, shaking his head to clear it a little as his giggles subsided. “We should watch that. Hey, if you see that chick, order me another beer.”

He was regretting that beer now, a little, or maybe it was the one after that that had been a bad idea. But the Lakers had won, which was awesome, and he had this warm, expectant feeling in his chest that he realized was the direct result of picturing the pleased expression on Zach’s face when he told him that the evening with Dylan hadn’t been the torture he’d been expecting after all.

“You’re sure you’re okay to drive?” Dylan asked him again as the valet pulled the car up.

“Yes, I’m fine, _Mom_ ,” Chris snarked at him as he climbed into the driver’s seat. He stared at the dashboard for a second as a wave of dizziness washed over him, then he straightened in his seat, shifted into gear, and followed the stream of cars out onto the freeway.

Five minutes later he jerked the car onto a pull-off and left it running as he jumped out the door.

“What are you doing?!” Dylan yelled, sticking his head out the passenger side window. 

“I gotta take a piss,” Chris called back, fumbling with his zipper until he could get his dick out and empty his bladder against the guardrail in a thick, satisfying stream.

“Fuck,” he grunted, when he flopped back into the driver’s seat a few minutes later. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I think I’m a little buzzed.”

“Yeah, ya think?” Dylan said, reaching over to turn off the ignition. He set a hand on Chris’s shoulder, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb. “Hey, let’s just chill here for a little while, okay?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Chris mumbled, closing his eyes and letting his head drop forward. 

Dylan slid his hand to the back of Chris’s neck, the touch of warm fingers against his skin barely penetrating the numb haze that Chris felt settling over him. He forced his eyes open, blinking blurrily, and was surprised to see Dylan’s other hand resting on his thigh. Cars sped past them on the freeway, a constant stream of sound, headlights flaring up in the rearview mirror. He let his eyes fall shut again.

“Hey, Chris,” Dylan whispered.

Chris fought his way up through the haze of exhaustion. “Mmm?”

“I had a lot of fun tonight. Did you?”

“Mm, yeah,” Chris murmured. “Was fun.”

He heard Dylan shift in his seat, the movement drawing Chris’s awareness to the hand on his thigh. “Don’t, uh…heh, don’t tell Zach I said this, but I’m kinda glad he agreed to go to that charity thing tonight.”

“Zach’s good. He’s such a good person,” Chris slurred. He tipped his head back against the seat, smiling sleepily at the thought. Zach. God, he really was amazing. Sure Chris did charity stuff from time to time, but not like Zach did. Not instead of going to a Lakers game, for fuck’s sake. But like, not only that, but Zach was so supportive of his friends. He always went to their shows and gallery openings and supported their shitty avant-garde projects. He was such a good friend. “I wanna be a good friend,” Chris sighed.

Dylan chuckled, the sound low and close. “You are a good friend.”

Chris lolled his head to the side and opened his eyes to look at Dylan. He licked his lips, his mouth dry. “Thanks,” he said, sincerely.

Dylan smiled, his eyes flicking down as he took a breath and hesitated. “I’m really glad we got to spend time together tonight, Chris,” he said, meeting Chris’s eyes. Fingers slid up into his hair, a thumb brushing tickling the skin behind his ear. Chris tipped his head and a soft sigh escaped his lips. “Maybe we could do this again sometime. Send Zach out on some humanitarian errand and hang out again, just us.” Chris squinted, trying to make some sense of the suggestion. He could feel Dylan’s hand moving across his jeans, slipping between his legs to scratch lightly along the inside of his thigh, igniting sparks of pleasure. He felt his cock swell against his fly and heard a low murmur from Dylan. “Mmm, yeah, you like that?” 

Wait, _what_?

Chris’s eyes flew open and he acted on instinct, shoving Dylan away from him as hard as he could. “Get the _fuck_ off of me!” Dylan fell into his seat with a look of shock, and Chris pulled back so fast he slammed his head against the driver’s side window. He cursed and touched the back of his head, still staring at Dylan in growing horror. His chest was heaving with the sudden exertion, as adrenaline and panic rushed through his veins. “What the _hell_ , dude? What is _wrong_ with you?!”

“Chris, I’m sorry,” Dylan said, his eyes wide, hands in front of him as he pleaded. “I thought – fuck – I shouldn’t have done that, Chris, I am _so_ sorry, please, you have to believe me-“

Chris shook his head in disbelief. Hi skin crawled with the memory of Dylan’s touch and he felt dirty, remembering how his traitorous cock had reacted. Fuck, he needed to get laid. 

“Chris,” Dylan said again, and Chris flinched away as he reached over to touch his arm. 

“DON’T touch me,” Chris spat, turning in his seat and yanking at his seatbelt, fumbling with the buckle with shaking hands. “Don’t – just don’t talk to me,” he said, cutting off whatever Dylan had been planning to try next. “Just shut the fuck up.”

Dylan leaned back in his seat, his body tense. “Are you sober?”

“I’m FINE.” He felt remarkably clearheaded, as a matter of fact. Amazing, how a little gay freak-out could sober a guy right up. He stared straight ahead as he drove, careful to stay within the speed limit and obey the rules of the road, even if all he wanted to do was get Dylan out of his car, go home, and take a long, scalding shower.

They’d been driving for fifteen minutes before Dylan broke the silence. “I’m sorry.”

Chris huffed in frustration. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Dylan’s voice was small and apologetic. “I wasn’t thinking, I just…we were having fun, and you’re hot, and I thought maybe there were signs-“

“You’re not very good at reading people, you know that?” Chris snarled. “Or listening.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And how could you do that to Zach? I mean, Jesus, he’s your _boyfriend_ , and you just-“

“No! No, I wouldn’t have, I mean, shit, I was so stupid, I’m sorry, okay? It will never happen again.”

“Yeah, no _shit_.” For one thing, he was never hanging out with Dylan again, certainly not alone and maybe not even with Zach. Ah, fuck. What the hell was he going to do about Zach? He tried to imagine Zach’s reaction to finding out that his precious boyfriend blatantly hit on his best friend – complete with groping, for christssakes. It wasn’t like he wanted to see Zach hurt, much less be the one to break the news to him…but there was some satisfaction to be had in the thought of piercing the haze of rosy perfection through which he seemed to view Dylan. 

Chris glanced over to the passenger seat out of the corner of his eye. Dylan was staring out the window, chewing nervously on a thumbnail. Yeah, okay, he was cute. Chris knew he was, knew that was first and foremost why Zach had fallen for the guy – and he didn’t really want to know the other reasons. And he knew Zach had dated his share of douchebags in the past, had even seen him defend Colton when Joe had called him out for being an asshole to a waitress. But this? Cheating? Or trying to, and with _Chris_ of all people? No. Zach wouldn’t stand for it, he’d dump Dylan to the curb in a second. Chris felt something uncoil in his chest and he breathed deeply as a feeling of relief swept through him. 

He was almost smiling by the time they pulled up in front of Dylan’s place. Dylan opened the door and climbed out, and Chris’s hand was on the gearshift when Dylan turned, holding the door open as he ducked his head inside.

“Chris…you won’t say anything to Zach about this. Right?”

Chris’s expression darkened. What was this kid smoking? “I’m sorry? Why the fuck wouldn’t I tell Zach?” 

Dylan’s eyes widened, then his mouth twisted up into an apologetic expression. “Just because, well…I mean, I wasn’t going to tell him about how you tried to drive me home drunk tonight. And I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be the only one who’d be interested to learn about Chris Pine’s drinking habits…” 

Chris’s heart stopped, his breath catching in his throat as the implications of Dylan’s words slammed into him like a freight train. The damage Dylan could do – he was sure there were pictures of him from the game tonight, drink in hand. He tried to remember if he’d seen flashbulbs going off when they’d gotten the car. And Zach… What if he believed Dylan, what if he thought Chris was drunk and imagining things, what if he was angry, what if he got really pissed at Chris – his insides twisted at the thought. He could feel Dylan watching him, and he swallowed hard, his heart sinking as he understood his only option. 

He licked his lips and turned to glare at Dylan, trying to get out the words from where they stuck in his throat. Dylan smiled and answered for him. 

“So, you won’t tell him, right?”

Chris nodded dully. 

“Great.” Dylan patted the top of the car and took a step back, then he leaned in one more time. “You’re a good friend, Chris,” he said quietly, the smile still quirking his lips. Chris’s mind raced to find an insult or a threat, something to hurl at Dylan, to make him understand that he wouldn’t get away with this, but it was too late, the door closed and Dylan was jogging up the driveway, disappearing around the side of the house. 

Chris slammed a hand on the steering wheel, his whole body jumping with the force of it. “FUCK!”

 

***

 

Chris bounced a little on the balls of his feet as he waited for Zach to open the door. It seemed like forever since he’d been over here. He heard Noah barking, and the thought of the slobbery greeting he was about to get made him grin. 

“Noah, calm down,” he heard Zach say on the other side of the door. The doorknob twisted and the door had only opened a few inches before Noah was pushing his way out, his frantically wiggling tail making it only slightly more difficult. Chris leaned down to rub his ears. “Hey buddy!” He glanced up at Zach. “Hey buddy!” he said cheerfully, before he noticed the hesitant expression on Zach’s face. He stood up, tugging his bag over his shoulder. “What’s up?” 

“Chris, I’m sorry-“ Zach began, but he was cut off by Noah jumping between them, pawing at Chris’s chest for attention. Chris laughed and shook him off, pushing his way past Zach into the house. He stopped short, the laughter dying in his throat as he caught sight of Dylan, turning away from the TV to look at them, an apprehensive expression on his face. 

Chris’s gaze darkened and he whipped his head around to stare at Zach. “Zach, you said-“

“I know, listen-“ Zach had his hands up in front of him, placating Chris. “Listen, Chris,” he said, dropping his voice and setting a hand on Chris’s wrist. He glanced back at Dylan. “Come with me for a sec.” 

Chris followed him down the hall into his bedroom, raising his eyebrows as Zach continued all the way into the bathroom and closed the door behind them. 

“Why are we in the bathroom?”

“Because I don’t want Dylan to hear whatever diatribe you’re about to unleash on me.”

“Fuck Dylan, _you_ should be the one worried about what I’m going to say! What the hell is he doing here, you said we were going to hang out today, you promised it would be just us!”

“I know, I did, and I’m sorry,” Zach said. He stepped closer, holding both of Chris’s wrists in his hands now, looking at him with a sympathetic expression. “His brother invited some girl over and didn’t want Dylan around, so I told him he could come here.”

Chris totally understood where Dylan’s brother was coming from. “Wait, his brother?” Chris asked, nose wrinkling in confusion. “I thought he was house-sitting.”

Zach shifted impatiently. “Yeah, he is. House-sitting for his brother.”

Weird that he hadn’t mentioned that, Chris thought. Still. “Why couldn’t he go to a coffeeshop or something?”

“Look, I’m not going to tell my boyfriend that he has to spend five hours in a coffeeshop instead of coming to my place. Come on, we can still talk and hang out and go over the script, he promised he’ll stay out of our way.”

Chris made a frustrated sound, but he sagged against the counter, head dropping in defeat.

“Hey,” Zach said quietly, stepping closer. He let go of Chris’s wrist to nudge his chin up until Chris met his eye. “I’m sorry.” He slid an arm around Chris’s shoulder and Chris let himself be pulled into the embrace. “This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen,” Zach murmured. 

Chris closed his eyes, basking in Zach’s closeness. Zach’s stubble brushed against his ear and he breathed in the smell of shampoo, the clean scent of Zach’s skin. Zach’s arms tightened around him and he felt his heart rate quicken. “I miss you,” he whispered, and it was too much, Chris straightened and pulled away, trying to catch his breath. He flashed Zach a weak smile. 

“Whatever, dude. You know you’ll be sick of me in a minute once Trek starts.”

They looked at each other, and Chris held his breath until Zach matched his smile. “Yeah.”

Chris turned around and pretended to mess with his hair, subtly pressing his crotch against the counter until his half-hard dick throbbed in pain. He met Zach’s eyes in the mirror. 

“So, we’re cool?” Zach asked.

Chris swallowed and nodded. “We’re cool.” He waited impatiently for Zach to leave.

Finally, Zach turned away, opening the door and stepping into the bedroom. He turned around again before Chris could relax.

“You coming?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have to pee.”

He waited in the bathroom for a few minutes after Zach closed the door, hopping up and down and thinking unsexy thoughts until his semi subsided. Fuck, he hoped Zach hadn’t noticed. His mind swam with this new information, as he tried to figure out whether his body’s unexpected reaction was a revelation or a betrayal. He glared at his crotch. “Who’s side are you on, anyway?” Not that he’d give Dylan any credit for this. Why should he, it’s not like Dylan was the first person to say something about him and Zach. But something about what he’d said or the way he’d said it, hell, something about Dylan’s _existence_ had set this whole thing off, had made Chris start to wonder and to question and to lie awake at night, pretending he wasn’t thinking about Zach’s hands and lips and tongue as he pumped at his cock until he came. 

Chris splashed cold water on his face one more time and wiped it on his t-shirt, avoiding the towel that still hung damp from Zach’s shower. He headed out of the bedroom into the hall, where he found Zach walking toward the back of the house, Chris’s bag slung over his shoulder, two wineglasses and a bag of veggie chips in his hands. 

“Hey, I’m gonna head outside. There’s a pitcher of sangria in the fridge if you don’t mind grabbing it.”

“Sure.” Chris smiled to himself as he headed toward the kitchen. Zach made kickass sangria, and the prospect of spending a warm afternoon drinking and chatting in the backyard actually sounded pretty damn appealing. 

Chris was examining the refrigerator shelves to see if Zach had any ranch dip, so he didn’t notice Dylan coming into the kitchen until the sound of his voice made him jump.

“Hey, mind grabbing me a Coke while you’re in there?” Dylan asked.

Chris bit down the surge of annoyance and pulled out a Coke, handing the bottle to Dylan who was refilling his glass with rum. Chris turned back to the fridge and was reaching inside for the sangria when he heard Dylan curse behind him. “Shit-“ 

Chris glanced over to see Dylan righting the Coke bottle as a puddle of soda spread across the counter. He watched as Dylan yanked his t-shirt off over his head and dropped it on the counter to soak up the mess. 

“Wow,” he said sarcastically, “ya know, I don’t think Zach would mind if you used his paper towels.”

Dylan gave Chris a rueful grin. “Oh yeah. Whoops. I’m such a klutz. I just hope Zach doesn’t freak out.”

Chris was pretty sure Zach wouldn’t mind, not the spilled coke nor the fact that Dylan was now shirtless, cocking a hip against the counter in a way that perfectly showcased his sixpack abs and smooth chest. Chris’s eyes flicked up over tanned skin, his gaze catching on Dylan’s mouth. He licked his lips unconsciously, and watched as the lips curled up into a smirk. Chris swallowed, his stomach churning even as he felt his dick twitch in his shorts. 

To his dismay, Dylan chose that moment to glance down at his crotch, and he looked back up at Chris with eyebrows raised. “Interesting.”

Chris turned away toward the counter, reaching for the pitcher of sangria that he’d set down. “That has nothing to do with you,” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh no?” Dylan murmured, suddenly close. Chris could feel the heat radiating off of Dylan’s chest against his arm, and he stiffened. “That for Zach?” he said, low and mocking.

“Fuck you,” Chris ground out.

Dylan chuckled. “I guess you thought about what I said, huh? Realized the truth? How bad you want him? Your best friend, wow, I mean, that must be rough. So close and yet so far, right?”

Chris reached out to shove him away, palm connecting with his chest, the touch of skin hot and startling. Dylan took a step back, but he grabbed Chris’s hand, holding it tightly.

“Chris.”

His tone was serious now, and Chris looked at him, curious.

“You should tell him.”

“What?” Chris yanked his hand from Dylan’s grasp. “Fuck no.”

“I’m serious. You should. He doesn’t know, at least, I don’t think he does.” 

Good, Chris thought. Thank god for that. But the feeling in his chest wasn’t one of relief.

“Look, I know you guys have a history,” Dylan continued, his expression sincere. “If you tell him, if he has feelings for you, I won’t get in your way.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Chris shot back. “I’m not about to fuck up our friendship like that.”

Dylan shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve seen how the two of you are together. But if you want to keep it to yourself, that’s fine by me. I won’t say a word.” He glanced toward the back of the house. “I’m more than happy to keep that fine piece of ass for myself.”

“Hey, what’s taking so long?” Zach leaned into the kitchen and Chris flinched like he’d been caught doing something illicit. He took a deep breath and picked up the pitcher of sangria from the counter. “What are you guys doing?” Zach asked, glancing between them.

“We were just discussing the merits of your fine ass,” Dylan said, winking at him. Zach glanced at Chris with a questioning expression. 

“Let’s go,” Chris grunted, pushing past Zach and heading for the backdoor. He heard Dylan behind him as he murmured something that made Zach chuckle, followed by the disgusting smack of a kiss. Chris picked up his pace and burst through the backdoor into the yard.

“What were you and Dylan talking about in the kitchen,” Zach asked a while later, after their conversation had died down. “Is everything okay between you two?” 

Chris took a deep breath. He’d come to a decision, somewhere between leaving the kitchen and his third glass of sangria. Dylan’s words echoed in his head, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it, about the way Zach had hugged him the bathroom, the whispered words against his shoulder. He’d meant what he said about not fucking up their friendship, but the thought of it, the possibility of there ever being something…it was dizzying and it made him reckless, made him wonder where Zach’s loyalties really lay. 

So he’d decided to find out.

“Zach…Dylan hit on me.”

Zach stared at him. “What? No he didn’t.”

“Yeah, actually, I’m pretty sure he did.”

“What, just now? In the kitchen?”

Come to think of it, yeah, if you count him whipping his shirt off for no apparent reason, but he didn’t say that. “After the Lakers game.”

“What did he say?”

It was less about what he’d said, Chris thought, and more about the way he had his hand all up on Chris’s knee and thigh and… “He just said a few things, okay? It was…uncomfortable. I just thought you should know.”

Zach looked uncomfortable for a second, but he managed an apologetic smile. “Well, look, I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it. It was probably just Dylan being Dylan. I tried to tell him, but he doesn’t really get how you get weirded out about gay stuff sometimes.”

Chris grit his teeth, suddenly angry. Weirded out about ‘gay stuff’? Fuck Zach and his assumptions. If he didn’t want to believe that his boyfriend was a creep, Chris was rapidly losing the desire to try to convince him. Let Zach find out for himself. 

Even if it meant seeing his friend get hurt. The thought bothered him, but Chris pushed it away. He’d said his piece, he’d tried. He wasn’t about to go shoving Dylan’s hand down his pants just to prove Zach wrong. 

“Yeah,” Chris said finally, when he realized Zach had been waiting for an answer. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I mean, if you want I can ask him to stop saying that kind of stuff to you, if it makes you that uncomfortable.” 

“So you’ll just ask him to stop talking whenever he’s around me, then?” Chris asked, half joking. 

Zach rolled his eyes. “He’s not _that_ bad.”

Yeah. That was enough. Chris stood from the table, shoving papers into his backpack. 

“You heading out already?” Zach asked, straightening in his chair. He sounded disappointed and surprised, as if it weren’t completely obvious why Chris was leaving. He really didn’t remember Zach being this dense.

“Yeah. It’s been fun.” Chris slung the bag over his shoulder and headed toward the side yard, the better to avoid any further awkward encounters inside the house.

“You’re going to Kristen’s birthday party next weekend, right?” Zach called after him.

“Sure,” Chris said over his shoulder, suppressing a sigh. He’d harbored a slight hope that they’d maybe grab lunch sometime this week, _really_ hang out alone, but apparently that was out of the question. Oh well, he thought, as he climbed into his car. Zach was still keeping his relationship with Dylan low-profile, so Chris knew he wouldn’t be at Kristen’s next weekend. At least Chris had _something_ to look forward to.

**

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Chris muttered under his breath. “He’s bringing him to _parties_ now?”

“Who?” Kristen followed Chris’s line of sight to where Zach was coming in the front door, followed closely on his heels by Dylan, who looked a little nervous.

“This guy, Dylan.”

“Ooh, the boyfriend, right? He’s cute!”

“Yeah,” Chris grunted. “Adorable.” He rolled his eyes and walked away to find himself a drink.

He was halfway through his beer when Zach and Dylan found him in the kitchen. 

“Hey, there you are!”

Chris nodded at them in greeting and took another swig of beer. 

“Chris, thank god,” Dylan said, leaning against the counter next to him. “You’re the only person I know here besides Zach! Save me, it’s scary!” he said in a small voice, clutching at Chris’s sleeve, his eyes twinkling.

Chris glanced over, hoping Zach would recognize the desperation in his eyes, but Zach was looking past him, waving at someone across the room. 

“Great,” Zach said, patting Chris absently on the shoulder. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a sec,” and he was making his way into the crowded living room, leaving them alone. 

Chris shrugged Dylan’s hand off his shoulder and shot him an annoyed glare.

Dylan’s expression shifted from playful to smug as soon as Zach’s back was turned. His gaze traveled down Chris’s body and back up, lingering on his open collar before flicking up to meet his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Chris said gruffly. “So I guess this is your big debut, huh?”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Zach insisted.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“He did. I think he wants to spend as much time with me as possible before he leaves for New York.”

Chris focused on swallowing his sip of beer, squeezing his fist around the neck of the bottle as he brought it down from his lips, assuming a casual air before he asked. “New York?”

Dylan glanced at him in surprise. “Yeah. He didn’t tell you? He’s leaving on Monday. It’s only for like 10 days, but it’s the longest we’ll have been apart since we got together.” 

Chris tamped down the surge of anger building in his chest. Why hadn’t Zach told him he was going to New York? Not that ten days was a long time, and honestly it wouldn’t even have bothered him, hell, he might not even have noticed if it weren’t for Dylan being the one that Zach did tell, for knowing and for rubbing it in his face and for that fake little moue of sympathy that Chris wanted to wipe right off of his pouty lips. 

Chris jerked his gaze away from Dylan’s mouth and took another swig of beer. “Well, I’m sure you’ll live.”

“Yeah,” Dylan said, sounding doubtful. “Hey, you wanna hang out while he’s gone? Commiserate?”

Chris gave a curt laugh, then glanced at him. “Wait, you’re actually serious?” he said in disbelief. “No, Dylan. I do not want to hang out with you.”

“But Zach wants us to-“

“I don’t give a fuck what Zach wants!” Chris said loudly, turning to leave and crashing squarely into Zach.

“Um, hi,” Zach said, shooting Chris a confused look before smiling at Dylan. “Come on, I want to introduce you to some people. You up for it?”

“Sure,” Dylan said, pushing off the counter and stepping forward to take Zach’s hand. 

Zach looked at Chris again, the hint of a smile on his face. “So you don’t give a fuck what I want, huh?”

Chris avoided his eyes. “Think I’m gonna go introduce myself to the bottle of Johnnie Walker that I saw around here somewhere,” he mumbled. He gave Zach an exaggerated shoulder bump as he walked past.

*

“…so then Zach does this handstand for like five minutes, and doesn’t tell us until later that his hand was like _on_ this dried up cow manure the entire time, remember that, Chris?” The group around them burst into laughter and Chris nodded absently, trying _not_ to remember how Zach’s shirt had slid down, how golden his skin had looked in the afternoon sunlight. 

He glanced across the room to where he knew Zach was standing. Now Dylan was there, too, holding Zach’s arm and saying something, pleading, it looked like. Zach shook him off and said something stern before turning and walking away, heading for the sliding doors that led out onto the deck. Chris drained the last of his Johnnie Walker, thrust his glass into the hands of a startled bystander, and pushed through the crowd toward the doors.

Outside, the air was heavy and humid, and Chris swayed a little on his feet from the sudden rush of motion. He spotted Zach heading down the stairs and followed him down into the shadow of the deck, where he stopped and bent his head to light a cigarette. 

“Zach.”

Zach’s face lit up when he noticed Chris and he waved him over, smiling as he finished his drag and pulled the cigarette from his lips. He put an arm out and Chris stepped closer.

“Following me?” Zach asked, quiet and teasing, wrapping his arm around Chris for a quick bro-hug. Chris fought the urge to press his face into Zach’s shoulder and inhale. 

“I saw you and Dylan fighting.” His brain felt sluggish, words brimming up in his throat, threatening to spill out.

Zach shrugged, took another puff. “He hates it when I smoke.”

Zach was so close, Chris could feel his body shift as he sucked in another lungful of smoke, could smell his sweat underneath the familiar scent of his cologne. “I don’t hate it,” he said. His hand was twisted in the hem of Zach’s t-shirt, knuckles brushing against his hip. He wasn’t sure when that had happened. 

Zach chuckled. “Want one?”

“Want you.” Chris was closer now, and he directed the words toward Zach’s collarbone.

“What?” 

“You heard me,” Chris whispered, swaying a little as Zach pulled back to try to look him in the eye. 

“Jesus, how drunk are you? Is this that time of night where I remind you that you’re straight?”

“M’not straight,” Chris mumbled, his eyes tracing the collar of Zach’s t-shirt as he palmed the fabric against his chest. “You told Dylan I’m straight, but I’m not, I kissed a guy this one time and-“

Zach gripped Chris’s wrist in his hands, stopping it from slipping around his shoulders. “You kissed a guy this one time. Chris, that does not make you gay.”

“So _what_?” Chris asked, agitated now, attempting to yank his arm out of Zach’s grasp. “I know what I want, I want-“ He surged into Zach’s space, pressing his face into the crook of Zach’s neck. Zach’s grip faltered, and Chris pulled a hand free to grasp at the back of Zach’s neck.

“I’m not weirded out by gay stuff,” Chris panted against Zach’s jaw. He clutched at Zach, his fingers curling in the damp hair that stuck to the back of his Zach’s neck.

“I know you’re not, Chris-“

“No you _don’t_ , that’s what you think, that’s why you won’t give me a chance-“

“A chance? What the fuck are you talking about, Chris?” Zach’s voice was getting higher as he half pushed, half clutched at Chris’s shoulders. 

Chris swept his lips along Zach’s jaw, pressed them against the corner of his mouth. He felt Zach’s ragged breaths against his cheek, felt the slight twitch of muscles beneath his fingers as Zach turned slightly, almost imperceptibly, into the kiss. For a moment their lips met, damp and mobile, and Chris almost moaned in relief. Then the kiss was over, replaced by pleading words, “Chris, stop, please stop.” Zach sounded almost frantic, and Chris looked into his face, heart aching at the raw expression reflecting back at him, regret and pity etched across Zach’s features. “Fuck,” he exhaled, his eyes darting to Chris’s lips, his eyes, away and back again. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to New York?”

“Is that what this is about?” Zach’s eyes fluttered shut, he shook his head like he should have known. “I know what’s going on here, Chris, I’m not blind. I know you’re pissed that Dylan’s been monopolizing my time, but god-“ His arms were around Chris now, his words pressed into Chris’s hair. “This is not the way to handle it.”

“Do you want me?”

“I…Chris, that’s not the point-“

“You want me,” Chris told him. He let the strength of his conviction show itself in his grip on Zach, fingers curling into his bicep, digging hard into his arm.

“Ow,” Zach hissed, jerking out of Chris’s grasp. He gave Chris a searching look. “Chris, where is this coming from?”

“Do you love him?” Chris asked gruffly.

“Do I…what? Dylan? I don’t know,” Zach said, flustered, “I mean, yeah, I might. But, it doesn’t matter. You’re my friend, Chris. And Dylan is my boyfriend. And there’s no fuckin’ way…Jesus-“ he muttered, running a hand through his hair, “how are we even having this conversation?”

Their eyes met, as Chris’s brain frantically tried to process what had just happened. This was not how it was supposed to go, Zach wasn’t supposed to choose _Dylan_ …

“I should get back inside,” Zach said. Chris blinked stupidly. “Look, I…maybe we should talk. When I get back from New York. Okay?”

Chris swallowed hard and managed a nod.

Chris watched Zach go, thoughts tripping over each other in a tangled, drunken haze as he sucked in breaths of the muggy night air and heard the words echoing in his head. _“There’s no fuckin’ way…”_. Fuck. It had only been a week since the idea of being attracted to Zach had even entered Chris’s mind and here he was, already at cruel heartbreak, gutted and empty, twisting in the wind.

He moved back into the house on autopilot, finding the bottle of Johnnie Walker where he’d left it. He fell into a chair and let the liquid burn in his throat. Someone thrust a guitar into his hands and he clung to it, strummed a few chords, started and stopped, trying to remember a song, until the people watching lost interest and moved away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Zach and Dylan leave, and a few minutes later he stood on wobbly legs to and headed for the front door. 

“Whoa, Chris, where you going?” Dax asked, grabbing his arm.

“Going home. This party sucks.”

“Funny. You’re trashed, Pine. Crash here, or I’ll call you a cab, your choice.”

Chris swayed on his feet and Dax tightened his grip and pulled him over to the couch. He immediately curled into a ball, all of his efforts focused on willing the room to stop spinning and his stomach to stop heaving. The sounds of the party faded into a dull murmur, and he thought he heard sympathy in Dax’s voice as he muttered, “Well, I guess that answers that question.”

*

Chris fought his way back to consciousness, his senses coming on line slowly through a groggy haze. Textured fabric where his cheek was pushed into the couch cushion. A pounding in his head and an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Soft lips searing a damp trail up his neck. He sucked in a breath and attempted to open his eyes. 

“Zach?”

He felt a soft puff of breath and the corner of a smile against his skin. “Sure, Chris,” he heard, and the voice wasn’t Zach’s, so why was he arching his back, tilting his head back, inviting the kisses to make their way up across his jawline. “I can be Zach, if that’s what you want,” Dylan whispered, and his lips were on Chris’s, and Chris let his mouth go slack so Dylan could slip his tongue inside.

Dylan licked into his mouth, light, quick swipes across Chris’s sluggish tongue. Chris felt hot and cold all at once. His blood was racing and he was hard in his jeans and he could hear his own breath in his nose and the little moans Dylan was making as he bore down into the kiss. 

“Oh god, Chris,” Dylan whispered, his voice desperate against Chris’s cheek. His sour breath warred with faint traces of Zach’s cologne. “Wanted this for so long. Want you.” Chris wanted him to stop talking and he pressed up against Dylan’s mouth, shutting him up.

Dylan had a hand on Chris’s chest, absently rubbing over Chris’s t-shirt, brushing against his nipple, sending sparks straight to his groin, over and over until it was almost too much. He pushed Dylan’s hand away from his chest, down across his stomach where his muscles clenched over his churning gut. Dylan breathed an appreciative sound into the kiss and moved his hand down farther to press against the bulge in Chris’s jeans, running a palm along his painfully constrained erection. He thought to protest then, turned his head, sucked in a breath to tell him no, but before he could, lips covered his again, deft fingers unfastening his fly, and Zach’s hand felt so good around his cock-

“No, wait…Zach…” Chris said, lifting his head from the couch as realization tried to force him into awareness.

“Please, Chris.” A whisper against his cheek. “Pretend it’s Zach touching you, just please let me...”

It wasn’t Zach, the fingers damp and cool where he’d imagined Zach’s would be warm and dry, but his dick didn’t seem to know the difference. Dylan pumped his cock with quick, sure strokes, and for a second he could almost imagine that it was Zach’s hand on him, that Zach was touching him, wanting him, and he arched into the touch and kissed back sloppily at the warm mouth mashed against his own. 

Dylan was half on top of him now, grinding his erection into Chris’s thigh as he tugged jerkily at Chris’s cock. “Chris, oh, uh, god-“ Dylan humped harder against his leg, pinning him, pressing down on him, and he wanted to get up, wanted to leave, but he could feel a treacherous tightening in his groin. He tried to stop it, he didn’t want to come, not like this, but he was going to, and he squeezed his eyes shut and pictured Zach, Zach’s hands, Zach’s lips ( _Zach, Zach, Zach_ ) as he shot a bitter, burning load into his shorts. 

Chris gave a rough shove, sending Dylan tumbling to the floor to curl into himself as his own orgasm shook through him. Then he was off the couch, stumbling out onto the deck and down the stairs, just making it to the edge of the lawn before he doubled over to vomit on the grass. His eyes watered and his head swam, and tremors wracked his body long past the time when he had anything left to expel. He was half-worried that Dylan would follow him outside, but the yard was empty when he finally managed to right himself, the street silent as he made his unsteady way home.

**

Chris spent the next two days locked in his apartment with the lights dimmed, alternating between the bed and the couch. Zach didn’t call to talk about what had happened or to say goodbye, or maybe he did – Chris hadn’t seen his phone since the party, and he hadn’t found the energy to care.

When he woke up on the third day, his mind was clear, like his hangover had finally dissipated, like it was all a bad dream. Like Zach was in New York and maybe when he got back, they could talk and things would be okay. He took a shower, picked up the trail of cereal bowls that led from his bedroom to the kitchen, and went out to get some real food. 

He came back two hours later, cradling a bag of groceries in one arm, to find Dylan sitting on the steps up to the entryway. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Dylan shook a lock of hair out of his eyes and smiled at him, and Chris felt a bolt of heat in his stomach. “Zach’s in New York,” he said, like that was any kind of reason he should be here, leaning back on his elbows on the second step down. “I thought maybe we could hang out.”

“You thought-“ Chris squinted at him in disbelief. “No. Get the fuck away from my apartment. I don’t ever want to see you again. We’re not friends.”

“Chris.” Dylan’s expression turned serious and he scrambled to his feet. “I know you told Zach…how you felt. Feel. At the party.” His mouth turned down at the corners. “I’m sorry.” 

Chris scowled. “Whatever, dude.” He tried to push past, but Dylan stopped him with a hand on his arm and one on his chest. 

“Just please let me talk to you for a second. A minute. Okay? Please.”

“Why?”

“Because I know what’s going on in Zach’s mind.”

“So do I!”

Dylan looked skeptical. “Do you, Chris? Really? You know what he looks for in a guy? You know what kind of stuff he likes in bed? What turns him on?”

“Well…” Chris started, his voice faltering, “no.”

“Exactly.” Dylan slid a hand up to Chris’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb against the side of Chris’s neck. “Just give me five minutes, then I’ll go.”

Chris jerked out from under his touch and glanced behind him. They were fully visible from the street, and Dylan was standing too close, wearing a bright red shirt that said “I ♥ Boys” in bold white letters.

“Fine,” Chris muttered, gesturing toward the door. “Just, get the hell inside.”

Inside, Chris went straight to the kitchen, ignoring Dylan as he put away his groceries. He opened a cold bottle of beer and tipped his head back for a long swig before pushing past Dylan and heading for the couch. 

Dylan helped himself to a beer and followed, sprawling on the opposite side of the sofa like he owned the place. Chris was hunched over, elbows on his knees as he stared intently at his beer bottle and picked at the label.

“Do you know why Zach likes me?” Dylan asked.

Chris looked at him. “Honestly, Dylan, I have no fucking clue.” 

Dylan just smirked. “Because I’m hot and because I’m good in bed.”

Chris rolled his eyes. 

“I’m serious.” Dylan leaned forward a little. “I’ve been sucking dick since I was 13, okay? I’m good at it. Among other things. I know what I’m doing. It took me about 20 minutes to figure out what Zach likes and doesn’t like. I know how to make him feel good.”

Chris squirmed, heat blooming up his chest and stinging his eyes. Fuck Dylan, _fuck_ him.

“All I have to do is be mildly entertaining and inoffensive in between the sex, and there’s absolutely no reason for Zach to let me go.” 

Chris swallowed hard, sick with the realization that Dylan was probably right. 

“Have you ever sucked dick, Chris?”

Chris shuddered. Why did he have to be so crude? He knew Dylan already knew the answer, but he said it anyway, the “No,” coming out weak and pathetic on his lips.

“Did Zach ever tell you about Casey?”

Chris frowned, tried to remember Zach’s stories about his litany of boyfriends and one-night stands. “First boyfriend?”

“Nope, that was Jason.”

Oh. Right. He knew that. He furrowed his brow. He didn’t remember any Casey.

“Casey was a freshman at CMU when Zach was a senior, and Zach had this, like, ridiculous, inappropriate crush on him. Finally, a few months into the school year, this kid gets the idea and starts flirting back, and Zach takes him to his room. Of course, the kid’s a corn-fed Boy Scout straight out of some Midwest high school, never kissed a guy, blah blah blah. They start making out and Casey gets all into it, wants to go down on Zach, right? So he’s on his knees and he’s like slobbering all over Zach’s dick, scraping his with his teeth because he doesn’t know what he’s doing-“

Chris’s cock throbbed in his shorts and he pressed his legs together, not sure whether he wanted Dylan to shut up or keep talking. 

“-finally he’s got Zach’s dick in his mouth and Zach’s, like, about to blow, and he’s kind of like thrusting into the guy’s throat-“

Chris could hear the blood rushing in his ears and it was all he could do to keep from jerking himself off right there –

“-then all of sudden the dude just, like, fucking chokes on it, pulls off, and barfs all over Zach’s feet.”

Chris looked at him, disgust and disbelief written across his features. “What the fuck?”

Dylan nodded. “I know, nasty, right?”

“Fuck. Ew. How come he never told me about that?”

“Probably ‘cause it’s fucking embarrassing. Plus, he knows how you feel about all that gay stuff,” Dylan said, giving him a significant look. Chris felt the same hot rage he’d felt when Zach had said those words, coupled with a feeling of betrayal that Zach didn’t find him worthy of knowing what seemed like a rather significant event in his life. Chris’s cheeks burned and his cock ached and he wished he could crawl out of his skin. “Anyway,” Dylan continued, “that’s when Zach basically swore he wouldn’t be anyone’s first time. And he doesn’t need to be. He can get anyone he wants.”

Chris buried his face in his hands. “I know.”

“I’m not telling you this to be cruel, Chris. I’m just trying to be real with you – Zach isn’t even going to think about getting with you if you don’t what you’re doing. Even you.” Dylan’s hand settled gently on his head, fingers threading through a few strands of hair. He must have leaned forward on the couch, because his voice was close to Chris’s ear as he whispered, “Let me help you.”

Chris felt Dylan shift on the couch, followed by the sound of a zipper, and he spread his fingers slightly, peering through them to see Dylan working his fly open, pressing a palm against the fabric of the black briefs stretched tightly over his erection. He couldn’t look away, some twisted fascination making him watch as pale fingers tugged at the elastic waistband, revealing the dark pink tip of Dylan’s cock. Chris sucked in a breath at the sight, dropped his hands and twisted away, but Dylan had a hand on his jaw, fingers gripping his chin and pulling him back. Chris squeezed his eyes shut, but not before he caught a glimpse of Dylan’s lips, damp and tempting. 

“Kiss me, Chris. The other night…you liked it.”

He didn’t, he didn’t want to, but he must have leaned forward slightly, his eyes still shut, because his mouth brushed against Dylan’s and his lips parted clumsily, tongue darting out to press into the cool cavern of Dylan’s mouth. The shock of arousal that he felt when Dylan’s tongue slid against his was mixed with disgust. Dylan’s tongue was thin and weird-feeling, sliding into his mouth, licking at his tongue and teeth and the inside of his cheeks. Chris pushed back, mouth moving against Dylan’s as he tried to find some pleasure in the kiss, but he could hear his breath in his ears, a desperate panting, and it repulsed him.

He jerked away from Dylan’s mouth, sliding off of the couch and onto the floor. He wiped the back of a hand across his mouth, sucked in a wet breath as he shifted to his knees. Fuck this. He wasn’t going to do it. He didn’t need to know.

He leaned forward and pressed his trembling lips to the glistening head of Dylan’s cock. 

Above him, Dylan choked on a sound of surprise, but he recovered quickly, touching a hand to Chris’s head and murmuring encouragement. “Fuck, yeah,” he breathed, hissing in arousal as Chris mouthed clumsily at the tip. “That’s good, _unh shit_ , use your tongue, Zach likes that-“

Chris lunged closer, mashing his nose against Dylan’s t-shirt as he pressed the flat of his tongue against the tight, heated skin. He let his baser instincts take over, hands gripping at Dylan’s hips without even realizing it, dimly registering things like taste and texture as his mind filled with a steady stream of “Zach’s cock, Zach’s cock, Zach’s cock.” As long as he could hold that thought, he could do this, he _would_ do this, and it would all be worth it in the end.

“Yeah, Chris, come on, baby, take it in,” Dylan murmured. “Zach wants to see those lips wrapped around his dick, I know he thinks about it, those lips fucking made for sucking cock, yeah, just like that-“ Dylan groaned in the back of his throat as Chris closed his lips around the tip and gave a gentle suck. That wasn’t so bad, a salty, inoffensive taste sliding across his tongue, the smell of sweat in his nostrils as Dylan reached between them to shove his briefs down farther. Chris took the hint and sucked a little harder, saliva easing the way as he slid his head down, filling his mouth with cock.

Chris’s every effort was focused on working his lips around the shaft, avoiding the scrape of teeth, hoping he didn’t fuck this up. “Shit, yeah,” Dylan hissed, “Zach likes that, Zach likes- _fuck_ -“ A grunted curse and the twitch of hips were all the warning that he got before his mouth was flooded with warm, bitter come, and Chris gasped in shock and pulled away, choking, a thick strand of jizz stretching from his lips as he hacked and spat onto the floor.

Above him, Dylan was tugging at his shoulders, saying “Chris, come here, let touch you,” and Chris batted him away to wipe his mouth on his sleeve. But he didn’t move from between Dylan’s legs, let his head tip forward as he thrust his hand into his shorts and began to jack himself. He could feel Dylan’s hands on him, but in his mind it was Zach, Zach’s hands in his hair, Zach’s fingers pressing between his lips as he rubbed his face against Zach’s softening cock and stroked himself to a frantic, guilty finish.

Chris swayed to his feet, not looking at the couch as he lurched into the kitchen, reaching into the fridge, past the beers and straight for the fifth of vodka that had been there since the last time he’d had people over. It was cold in his hand and burned in his mouth as he gulped at it, three large sips; he pictured it blazing down through him, cleansing him from the inside out.

When he stumbled back into the living room, Dylan was still there, watching him from the couch with pity and amusement in his eyes. 

“Get the fuck out,” Chris said, his voice coarse with vodka and he didn’t want to think what else. He propelled himself toward the couch and grabbed forcefully at Dylan’s bicep, pulling him up, pushing him in the direction of the door. 

“Hey,” Dylan said sharply, like he was really offended, like _he_ was the one being violated here, and he gave Chris a little shove in the chest.

Chris’s eyes blazed with fury, and he brought his fist back, threw a clumsy punch toward Dylan’s face, that fucking face, the whole fucking reason for all of this shit, but Dylan avoided it easily. “Hey, watch the face, buddy,” Dylan chided, hands in front of him, “watch the face, right? Wouldn’t want Zach to see…”

Chris growled and flew at him, managed to connect two good punches against Dylan’s chest and side before he was turning, leaving, fucking _finally_ , the door closed and Chris slumped against it, his eyes fluttering shut as he crumpled to the ground.

**

He got up at some point, went to bed and got up and showered and got to his meetings on time and went to a charity thing and a family thing and a voiceover thing and ate and drank and drank and smiled and laughed when it was expected of him.

But when Zach knocked on his door a week later, it felt like he’d never fucking moved, like he’d been huddled up against his door for a week straight, his face wet and his shorts sticky, unable to catch his breath.

“Zach.”

Chris glanced past him automatically, but Dylan was nowhere to be seen, thank god. Zach looked good, in sunglasses and a smile and a few days’ worth of stubble. Chris couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel against his dick. 

“Zach, there’s something I have to tell you-“

Zach raised an eyebrow as he pulled off his sunglasses. “Am I allowed to come in first?”

Chris pushed the door open wider in response. Zach stepped inside and stopped next to him, too close. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Chris breathed, his eyes flicking over Zach’s face and then away. He crossed his arms tightly against his chest.

Not the couch, Chris thought, but it was too late, Zach was across the room, dropping onto the couch, feet on the floor, hands on his knees. 

He waited a second before he realized that Chris wasn’t planning to move. “Is this about Dylan?” he asked.

Chris jerked his gaze away from the space between Zach’s legs, his eyes finding Zach’s.

“Yes. I – before you left for New York, at that party - I passed out…and woke up to your boyfriend slobbering all over my neck.”

Zach twisted his hands together. “Yeah, look, I’m really sorry about that.”

Chris stared at him in disbelief. “You’re _sorry_?” Of all the reactions he’d expected, dreamed of, fantasized about, this – a resigned apology - hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Zach, are you listening to me? Your boyfriend tried to cheat on you, he tried to…to, fucking violate me!” It wasn’t the whole truth, but Chris didn’t have to fake the shudder that followed the words.

“Yeah, I know. He told me.”

“He _told_ you?” Chris felt dizzy, his heart suddenly racing even faster than it had been. Oh god, oh god - what else had Dylan told him?

“Before I left for the airport. He said he was drunk and tried to kiss you.” Zach scrubbed a hand over his face. “I got pretty pissed at him.” 

Chris registered a small shock that Zach hadn’t jumped immediately to St. Dylan’s defense.

“Jesus Christ, Zach. I know things were weird between us when you left, but you didn’t feel the need to, I don’t know, _talk_ to me about this?” 

“I fucking tried to call you, Chris, why don’t you try answering your fucking phone once in a while?!” Zach burst. 

Chris bit his lip. He’d never found his phone after the party. What had happened with Dylan had apparently fucked him up so much that it honestly hadn’t crossed his mind that Zach might try to call while he was away.

“But I’m here now, okay, because I want to talk. We need to talk, Chris. We need to figure this out.”

“Figure _what_ out? What’s to figure out?” Dylan is toxic, he’s ruining everything. Chris already had it all figured out. 

“Look, Chris-“ Zach looked at him, pleading, pitying. Calm. “I wasn’t going to tell you this…” 

Chris stared at him. _Then don’t._

Zach took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “Dylan told me he thinks you might have a drinking problem.”

“He WHAT?” Chris said, aghast. Oh, that was rich. That was pretty fucking hilarious. “Are you kidding me?”

“He just, he said he’s never been around you when you haven’t been drinking-“ Yeah, no shit. “-and he was just asking me if that was normal, if you always use social situations as an excuse to get trashed.”

“And you told him no, right?”

Zach hesitated for a second.

“Zach?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, I told him that wasn’t really how you were, but...”

“But what?”

“Well, I mean, it kind of says something, the fact that you feel the need to get drunk every time Dylan’s around, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, Zach, it does,” Chris ground out, glaring at him.

“He said you even drove drunk this one time-“

“Zach, no, it’s not like that-“ Chris had his hands up in front of him, wanting to stop this, to make Zach stop talking. 

Zach stood up from the couch, agitated, crossing and uncrossing his arms,. He looked at Chris with desperation in his eyes, the corners of his mouth turning down. His voice was high and choked as he forced the words out. “Chris, he told me you kissed him _back_!”

“No!” Chris crossed the room in a flash, his hands squeezing around Zach’s biceps. “Zach, I didn’t, I swear to god-“

Zach twitched in his grasp, but didn’t try to pull away. His eyes roamed Chris’s face, searching for the truth. “Chris, is this about- Is it because of what I said when you-“

“No, Zach, god, listen to me, I didn’t – I was drunk, and I was so out of it, and I thought-“ _I thought it was you..._

“Jesus, Chris, you _did_ kiss him?!”

Chris winced, wracking his brain for the right answer, the right words to make Zach forget about Dylan, to make himself the focus of Zach’s attentions once again. “Zach, I- “ He met Zach’s eyes and moved closer, pressing their foreheads together. “I don’t know, Zach, maybe I…maybe I do have a drinking problem.”

He saw the bob of Zach’s throat as he swallowed, processing what Chris was telling him. Chris felt his demeanor shift, the anger melting from his body. Chris loosened his grip, and Zach’s arms slid around his waist. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Chris whispered.

“Shhh. It’s okay.” Chris felt Zach’s compassion washing over him and he took comfort in the calm authority radiating from his touch. “It’ll be okay, Chris. I’m here, I’ll be here. Just, you have to do something for me, okay? Promise me you’ll get help.”

Chris snuggled closer, feeling the lie curdle in his heart as he pressed his nose against Zach’s neck, trying to memorize the texture of Zach’s skin against his own as he nodded and whispered, “Okay.” 

 

***

 

Fingers twisted in Chris’s hair and he breathed in hard through his nose, damp heat filling his lungs as he drooled around Dylan’s cock. 

This probably wasn’t what Zach had meant by getting help.

For about one full minute after Zach had left, Chris had thought he’d gotten it right. Thought he’d won. And then he heard Zach’s voice in his head, saying, _“You’re my friend, Chris. And Dylan is my boyfriend. And there’s no fuckin’ way…”_ , and it all came crashing down as he realized what he’d really done. He’d won Zach’s pity - that was all. He could see it all laid out before him, the carefully planned booze-free _activities_ , the fake smiles and awkward questions about _how he was doing_. Sure Zach might leave Dylan’s side now, but only because he was a _good friend_. And it was so far from what Chris wanted that the prospect settled like a leaden weight in his chest, more of a threat than Dylan had ever been.

When he went to bed that night, he tossed and turned, woke up hard and jerked himself off to a hazy fantasy of sucking Zach’s dick. He came harder than ever, despite the fact that in his mind, the voice whispering filthy encouragement sounded a lot like Dylan, and Zach’s bedroom eyes were full of pity. 

He went three days without drinking, but it turned out that not drinking was a lot easier than not remembering how Dylan’s cock had felt on his tongue, the way his lips had stretched, trying to accommodate the thick girth while trying not to let his teeth scrape skin. He woke up, heart racing, to nightmares where Zach howled in pain at the slightest touch, or laughed at him as clumsy fingers pawed uselessly at his fly. 

It was after one of these dreams, half drunk on sleep and without even waiting for his breathing to slow, that he grabbed his new phone off the bedside table and typed out a hasty, desperate text.

The phone buzzed a few minutes later with an address – a Starbucks in West Hollywood – and he let the part of his brain responsible for 2 AM decisions propel him there without looking back. 

Dylan dropped into the passenger seat, slamming the car door behind him, and Chris drove for a few minutes, past pawn shops and jewelry stores, no destination in mind but away from the lights that threatened to rouse him from this fucked up dream. 

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, his eyes on the road.

“Just hanging out. Had some errands to run earlier.”

“Right.”

The lights streaked past them, and Chris turned toward the car down a darker street. 

“Chris.”

“What?” 

“Why did you text me at two in the morning? What are we doing?”

“What do you think?” Chris answered gruffly, yanking the car onto a side street, pulling over and slamming it into park. He was breathing hard as he turned to look at Dylan for the first time since he’d gotten in the car. 

Dylan had his seatbelt off and was leaning toward him, and their mouths met halfway in a full-on kiss, mouths open, tongues sliding together. Chris was hard instantly, the stupid thought forcing itself into his brain that he liked this, that he liked kissing guys. He pulled away, panting in Dylan’s ear, avoiding his eyes. 

“You’re Zach.”

“Okay.”

“Say it.”

“I’m Zach.”

Chris closed his eyes, swallowed. “I want to try going slow.”

Dylan nodded, and Chris pressed a kiss to his jaw, then another, as he slid a hand under Dylan’s t-shirt. Last time had been clumsy and fast, but that would never work with Zach. He needed to learn this, how to trail his fingers up over that flat stomach, whether to brush lightly over a nipple or tweak it hard between thumb and forefinger. The latter, if the way Dylan hissed and arched his back was any indication, and Chris rucked up his t-shirt and leaned over, pressed his mouth over the dark nub and sucked. Dylan groaned at that and Chris’s cock was already aching in his shorts.

A sprinkling of hair covered Dylan’s chest, nothing like Zach’s, but Chris ran his fingers through it nonetheless, tugging at the short hairs until Dylan made a pained sound. Then Chris slid his hand down, pressed kisses to Dylan’s chest as his fingers made quick work of the zipper, and he palmed the bulge he found straining at worn cotton briefs. Here he took his time, rubbing a hand over Dylan’s crotch, following the line of his erection, feeling out the shape and weight of his balls beneath the fabric. Chris moaned against Dylan’s stomach, kissing wetly at the skin around his belly button before flicking his tongue inside. Dylan squirmed beneath him, breathing hard, his fingers coming up to tangle in Chris’s hair. 

Chris moved lower, mouthing over Dylan’s underwear, his head buzzing with power as Dylan’s soft moans gave way to breathy encouragement. “Yeah, Chris, shit, yeah-“ Dylan’s hips lifted off the seat as he pressed up against Chris’s mouth, and Chris lifted Dylan’s cock free, curled his fingers against the shaft and wrapped his smiling lips around the head. “Oh fuck, Chris, fuck that feels- ungh-“ Chris bobbed his head and sucked, letting saliva slide from his lips to ease the way. He breathed in hard through his nose, squeezed and licked at Dylan’s cock, so turned on he could barely remember to focus on technique.

He knew it would make his task harder, but he couldn’t help himself, he shoved his other hand into his jeans to jack himself with short, hard strokes. He heard Dylan murmur a protest above him, “Chris, wait, I want to-“ but then his head slammed back against the headrest and he jerked his hips and came hard into Chris’s mouth.

Chris was almost ready for it this time, and he gave a few frantic gulps, swallowing down Dylan’s release before he pulled off with a ragged moan. He pressed his sweaty forehead into Dylan’s abs and breathed Zach’s name as he pumped at his own dick, so fast that his wrist began to ache in the few extra seconds it took for him to shoot his own sticky load into his pants.

The sounds of their breathing filled the car as Chris shuddered through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Dylan’s fingers lingered in his hair, gentle now, stroking softly, pushing a few unruly strands back into place.

“You’re so sweet, Chris,” Dylan murmured. Chris pushed himself up off of Dylan’s lap and back into the driver’s seat, twisted the key in the ignition.

“Hey,” Dylan said, putting a hand on his arm. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Chris said brusquely, keeping his eyes on the windshield. “What else do you want?”

“I don’t know. I just thought maybe we could talk.” 

“I’d really rather not,” Chris muttered.

“You know, I think you owe me a little more respect,” Dylan said, his tone sharp with a sudden anger. Chris finally looked at him, eyebrows up in surprise. “I answer your fucking booty call at 2 AM, I let you call me _Zach_...what the fuck am I supposed to get out of this?”

“I don’t know, I thought maybe the mind-blowing orgasm I just gave you would count for something.”

Dylan barked a laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, gorgeous. Your slobbery-ass blowjob technique still leaves a lot to be desired.”

Chris frowned and gave the steering wheel a frustrated smack before he turned off the car. He leaned against the cool glass of the driver’s side window. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, Chris. I like you. A lot.” Dylan shoved his hands into his pockets, not even bothering to zip his fly. “It’s almost scary how much I like you, how much I find myself thinking about you when I…when I shouldn’t be.” Chris could feel Dylan’s eyes on him as he let a beat of silence pass. “But I’m not stupid.” Chris was startled into looking over at him. Dylan pulled something out of his pocket and held it out. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Chris recognized his phone, the one he’d lost track of back at Kristen’s party. His brows furrowed in confusion. “Why-“

“I took it out of your pocket that night…sorry, I know I shouldn’t have, it was stupid, I just…anyway. I didn’t even look through it ‘til a couple days ago.” 

Chris bristled and grabbed for the phone. “You’re an asshole,” he spat, but Dylan was talking over him, and his words made Chris’s stomach clench. 

“Chris, Zach tried to call you 26 times while he was in New York.” 

“ _Twenty-six_ times?” Fuck. A whole new wave of desire and hope crashed over Chris. 

“Yeah. So like I said, I’m not stupid. I recognize the precariousness of my situation. And the way I see it, I have the power here. I can either drive a wedge between you and Zach…or I can help you, Chris.”

“You told him I was a fucking alcoholic!”

“And you admitted to him that you were!”

“Fuck you! You know why-“

“All I know is that you texted _me_ , you kissed me, you sucked _my_ dick-“

“Shut up, shut the fuck up!” Chris yelled, flailing a hand out at Dylan, to hit him or silence him or something. Dylan caught his wrist in one hand and smiled at him, teeth glinting white in the darkness. 

“I could call him right now, Chris. I could tell him where we are, what we just did. I could show him the message from you that I saved on my phone,” Dylan said, holding his phone up, showing Chris the desperate text that he’d sent just an hour ago. “Don’t fuck with me, because I know way more about this game than you do.” Chris lunged for the phone, but Dylan was quick, leaning back as he pulled his hand out of reach, snaking his other arm out to wrap around Chris’s waist, holding him close.

“I want you, Chris.”

“Dylan -“

“And you want Zach.” 

Chris didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He was breathing hard and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

“And the only way you’re going to get him is through me.” Dylan’s warm breath brushed against his cheek, the hint of a kiss. “Play along with me, Chris,” he whispered, thrusting up to press their hips together. Damp lips pursed against the corner of his mouth. “Let me be Zach for you, just for a little while longer.” 

It only took the slightest turn of his head for Chris to seal his fate with a dark, heated kiss.

**

Damage control, that’s what this was, Chris thought as he paced the room, waiting for Zach to arrive. His last chance to make Zach understand. But he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that it was already too late. 

Three days had passed since that night in the car with Dylan. That’s how long it had taken to get in touch with Zach, to figure out a time and a place, and Chris worried that it was too long, that Dylan had already had enough time to say all the right things, to place just enough doubt in Zach’s mind and take away any chance that he would listen to Chris. But he had to try.

When Zach arrived, Chris offered him a drink and made a point of pouring himself a glass of orange juice, which Zach eyed with approval as they sat down on the couch together. 

“So I got a call back from the Mark Taper Forum yesterday,” Zach said, casually. “I got the part.” He nudged Chris with his knee. “So, thanks.”

“Thanks?” Chris frowned, not even sure what role Zach was talking about.

“Yeah, thanks. For reading with me? Remember?”

He did remember now, barely. Jesus. Reading through audition scenes with Zach seemed like something that happened in another lifetime, though it had really only been what, four months? Three?

“Congratulations.” He meant it.

“Thanks,” Zach said, ducking his head to hide the silly grin of pride that still crossed his features, even after years of getting parts. 

“Hey, speaking of which, can I get my tape back?”

“What tape?”

“You know, the tape I lent you, the one where I cried in that play.”

“Oh yeah.” Zach furrowed his brow, trying to remember. “Didn’t I give that back to you already? I just reorganized my media collection and I don’t remember seeing it.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you just said ‘media collection’ and just tell you that you’d better give me that tape back, or you will seriously have hell to pay. I cannot have that getting out…” A terrifying thought occurred to him – “Fuck, you didn’t show it to Dylan, did you?”

“No!”

“Okay, good.” Good. He leaned forward to take a sip of orange juice before settling back on the couch.

“So what’s up?” Zach asked. “Was there something else you wanted to talk about, or did you just want to bust my balls about the possibility that I exposed the young Chris Pine’s ugly crying face to the world?”

Chris licked his lips, wondering how to start. Tactfully. “Zach…I really think you should break up with Dylan.” On second thought, fuck tact.

Zach set his drink down gently on the coffee table, brushed an invisible speck of dirt from his knee, and stood. “I’m not listening to this, Chris.”

“Zach, please, hear me out!” Chris said, his hand shooting out to grab Zach’s wrist. “Please, I’m sorry, I…shouldn’t have started that way, just…listen. Please.”

Zach raised an eyebrow but didn’t make a move to sit down.

“First of all, I don’t have a drinking problem. I just…fuck, I just said that so you would stop freaking out the other day, okay?”

Zach crossed his arms. “So now you’re denying that you have a problem?”

“I’m not denying it, Zach, I _don’t_ \- fuck. Look, I’m not an alcoholic. I’ve had like, two drinks in the past six days, and I’m fine. Okay?” 

Zach’s face twisted into an expression of concern. He sat back down, turning to face Chris on the sofa. “Chris, I want to believe you, I do, just…what you’re saying is exactly what someone with a drinking problem _would_ say.”

“Zach, god, I don’t – ugh, okay, look, what I’m trying to say is that Dylan _wants_ you to think that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s trying to…to drive us apart. To make it his word against mine, to make you have to choose sides!”

Zach made a frustrated sound and clutched at his hair with both hands. “Fuck! This is _exactly_ what I didn’t want to happen!”

“I know.”

Zach glared at him. “But now you’re telling me the exact same thing? That I have to choose?”

“Zach.” Chris suddenly felt exhausted. “I just want you to have all the information, so you can see what’s really going on.”

“I think I do.”

“Good.”

Zach was looking at him, that terrible pity creeping back into his eyes. “You’re jealous.”

“What? No!” Well, yeah, but that was so not the point.

“Obviously you are, Chris. I’m sorry, but I just can’t see how one day you’re professing fucking… _feelings_ for me, and the next day, what, you’re over it?”

“What do you want me to say, Zach?” Chris stood up abruptly, taking a few steps away before he turned to face Zach. “Just…that’s not what this is about.”

Zach raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “No? That’s not what this is about? You’re just telling me to break up with my boyfriend and it has _nothing_ to do with how you feel about me?”

“How I feel about you.” 

“Yeah.”

“What about how you feel about me?” Chris’s voice went low, dangerous. 

Zach paused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what about the 26 missed calls that I had on my phone from when you were in New York?”

“I thought you lost your phone.”

“I found it.”

He watched Zach’s face as he considered Chris’s words, as he settled on a response. “I was worried about you.”

“Well I’m worried about you, Zach. As a friend. And I’m telling you, as a friend, that Dylan is-“ is crazy, he wanted to say, but he bit that back at the last second “-that he’s lying to you, that he’s trying to drive a wedge between us. Maybe _he’s_ the one who’s jealous, I don’t know.” He did know.

“Why would he-“

“Because he’s obsessed with me!” Chris knew he was the one sounding crazy now, paranoid, the rising pitch of his words betraying his desperation, and he tried to rein it back. “He admitted to you, he tried to make out with me!”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Chris. You know Dylan. You think you’re the only person he’s hit on since we’ve been together?” Chris flinched at Zach’s derisive tone, at the words that stung a little more than they should have, words that sounded like they could have come from Dylan’s mouth. “And anyway,” Zach continued, “he was drunk.”

“Oh, okay, and yet _I’m_ the one with a fucking drinking problem? Do you even hear yourself, Zach? Do you even know who you’re defending anymore, or are you so fucking blinded by Dylan that I should just stop trying to get through to you?”

“It’s not Dylan that’s driving us apart Chris. I think you need to step back and look at the choices you’re making-“

“My _choices_?” Chris felt the world spinning, spiraling out of control and there was nothing he could say or do to stop it. 

“Your drinking and your anger and your toxic attitude.” No, Zach, not this. This was not the way- “Look, I think I should go.”

“Zach, no, wait, don’t go-“

“I’m sorry, Chris. I just…I need to think and I can’t listen to this anymore.”

“Will you at least think about what I said? About Dylan?”

Zach gave him a look that made his stomach sink. “Honestly, Chris? No, I probably won’t.” 

Chris clenched his fists at his sides, gritting his teeth as Zach slammed out of the apartment. A second later, he strode out onto the balcony. “I want my fucking tape back!” he yelled, but the sidewalk was empty, and Zach was already gone.

*

Thirty minutes later, Dylan was at his door.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was, uh, wondering if Zach was here.”

“He’s gone,” Chris said flatly. He stared at Dylan through dull eyes.

Dylan held his gaze for a second, then he glanced away. When he looked back, a light flush had crept across his cheeks. 

“What do you want?” Chris asked.

“Okay, I lied,” Dylan confessed, biting his lip. “Zach told me you guys got in a fight. He said he needed some alone time. I wanted to come see if you were okay.” He set a gentle hand on Chris’s arm. Chris wanted to flinch away, but instead he leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut. Zach hadn’t touched him, not even a hug to say hello. Was he that repulsive? Chris swayed a little on his feet, and he slit his eyes open to glare at Dylan. 

“I told him I wasn’t an alcoholic. He didn’t believe me.” He believed _you_ , Chris thought bitterly.

Dylan gave him a sympathetic look, rubbing a little where his hand still rested on Chris’s bicep. “Are you sober right now?”

Chris thought of the tumbler of vodka he’d downed right after Zach had left. “Yes.”

Dylan chuckled. “I can smell the vodka on your breath, Chris.” He stepped into Chris’s space, leaned forward. “I can taste it.”

His lips closed on Chris’s, cutting off any protest, swallowing down his denial. Shame stung like liquor in Chris’s throat as he shoved an angry tongue into Dylan’s mouth, pressed him against the door, fingers twisting in his t-shirt until Dylan pushed him away. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” Dylan said breathlessly as he pulled his shirt over his head. He pulled Chris back into him, slamming their lips together. “Mmm, fuck,” he moaned as his hands traveled up Chris’s sides, touching him everywhere across his bare skin. “If only Zach could see you like this-“ Chris cut him off with another demanding kiss, catching Dylan’s lips in his. Dylan’s cheeks were rough with stubble, like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, and Chris brought a hand up to rub over them, images of Zach’s face flashing through his mind, hot and unshaven and angry. He scraped his teeth against Dylan’s lower lip as he broke the kiss. 

“Suck my dick,” he growled. 

Dylan’s mouth quirked like he was holding back a smile. “What was that?”

“You heard me, suck my fucking dick,” you fucking asshole, Chris thought, anger and lust roiling through him, straining in his jeans.

As Dylan dropped to his knees, Chris grabbed a handful of his hair, tugged his head back until he was looking up at him, eyes dark with hunger. He’d resisted this for so long, because for fuck’s sake, he knew what a blowjob felt like, he didn’t need Dylan to _teach_ him. He’d imagined it so many times already, what it would feel like, Zach’s lips and tongue, his hot mouth. Chris rubbed the pad of his thumb over the rough stubble on Dylan’s cheek. “Like Zach does.”

“Of course.” Dylan reached for his fly and Chris hissed as nimble fingers found his cock, one hand fisting his length while hot suction enveloped the tip, Dylan was – shit, Dylan was tonguing his slit, moaning around him, and Chris had to hold himself up with one hand against the closed door, twisting his hands in Dylan’s hair to get him to ease up a little. He could feel his balls tightening up like he was about to come and he was panting, desperate – too desperate, this was ridiculous, it was sick how fast Dylan could bring him to the edge. Knowing green eyes flashed up at him from beneath long lashes, and he gave an experimental thrust. Dylan grunted in response, grabbed at his hips to urge him on. This was it, Chris knew he was going to come, he could feel it boiling up inside him, his toes curling into the carpet. He shoved Dylan off of him with the palm of his hand, heard Dylan whimper, pleading, “Please Chris, let me-“ as his dick spasmed, pulsing out a few globs of jizz onto Dylan’s face. “Shit,” Dylan murmured, wiping a hand over his eyes, smearing semen across his cheek, and his tongue flicked out to lick a droplet from the corner of his lips. “Fuck, Chris-“

Chris stumbled backwards a few steps and Dylan lost his hold, falling forward onto one hand, not even bothering to pull down his own shorts as he squeezed and stroked himself through the fabric. But apparently it was enough, because Chris saw his eyes squint shut, his face clench up, body going rigid as he came. Chris turned away, tugging his zipper closed as he made his way to the bathroom.

**

God, it was like Chris couldn’t get enough.

He was moving through life in a soul-numbing haze, brief flashes of devastating guilt no cure for the destructive lust that flared up in him like a disease. He and Zach hadn’t spoken since the day Zach had stormed out of his apartment, but it was Zach’s name on his lips as Dylan sucked him off in his car, parked in the deserted Whole Foods parking lot, so stupid and dangerous but he hadn’t been able to wait until they got back to his garage. He pushed Dylan away at the last second, shoved him down and came on his chest with a defiant stare.

Chris dropped him off a few blocks from Zach’s place and went home to rub himself raw, imagining Zach running his tongue across Dylan’s chest and finding the taste of him there.

Chris swore that was the last time, just like he always did. But then something would happen, he’d get drunk and break down. Or his phone would ring and Dylan’s name would flash across the screen.

“Hey, Chris.” Dylan’s voice was a low and seductive over the phone. “You busy?”

Chris glanced at the empty pizza box on his coffee table, the muted TV. “Yeah. I’m out.”

He heard a huff of laughter. “No you’re not. Your light’s on.”

Chris’s expression darkened and he jerked his head to stare at the window onto his balcony. “Where are you?” he hissed.

“Outside your door.” He sounded breathless, excited. “I came here straight from sucking Zach’s cock.”

Chris was at the door in three long strides, pulling it open to find Dylan smirking at him beneath the light. His eyes went straight to Dylan’s mouth, plump lips glistening with moisture, pink tongue flicking out at the corner like he was trying to catch one last drop. Chris reached across the threshold and grabbed his arm, yanked him inside and slammed the door shut. He shoved Dylan roughly against the door and pressed their mouths together, cutting off Dylan’s laugh to thrust his tongue inside, desperate for a taste. He licked at Dylan’s teeth, sought out the crevices where remnants of Zach’s spunk might linger, and Dylan let him, his mouth open and pliant. Chris sucked on Dylan’s tongue, his eyes squeezed shut, breathing harshly through his nose as he ground his throbbing erection against Dylan’s hip. 

“Taste good?” Dylan whispered when Chris finally broke the kiss to breathe.

“Oh fuck, Dylan,” Chris panted, mashing his nose and lips against Dylan’s cheek as he tried to press closer, riding his thigh, the friction igniting him. “Fuck, fuck-“ 

“Let me suck you, Chris,” Dylan hissed.

Chris ground against him, cotton and denim rubbing rough against his dick, and he almost didn’t want to pull away. But the thought of it, of fucking Dylan’s mouth, his dick sliding against the tongue that had just taken a load from Zach’s cock. The temptation was too great, and he let Dylan drop to his knees, hands already at his fly.

Afterwards, Dylan asked to use the bathroom, and he ended up staying for over an hour, sitting on Chris’s couch as they watched TV. They didn’t touch, or talk, but Chris didn’t ask him to leave.

Things changed a little, after that. Chris was filming again, long hours every day, but the work was in LA and Dylan seemed to know his schedule, calling him as he was leaving his trailer, showing up at his door with a six-pack. They’d make out a little, but sometimes that was as far as they’d go, in between DVR’d episodes of _The Office_ and games of Grand Theft Auto. They’d play until Chris could barely keep his eyes open, and Dylan would let himself out. 

One evening, as he was getting out of his car, Dylan stepped from the shadows along the side of the garage, and Chris nearly had a heart attack. 

“Jesus,” Chris yelped, putting a hand to his chest. “You scared the shit out of me. What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, dismayed to hear that the question had lost its once-threatening tone.

“Sorry. Didn’t want anyone on the street to see me. Can I come up?”

Chris didn’t answer, just grabbed his stuff out of the car and headed for the stairs, knowing Dylan would follow. 

“I’m only stopping by to change,” he said as he unlocked the door. “I’m going out.”

“A date?” Dylan asked, the surprised tone of his voice sending a frisson of annoyance through Chris.

“No. But the paparazzi don’t need to know that.” He stopped in the living room to drop his books on the couch, watched blankly as Dylan walked past him into the kitchen to open the fridge. The hiss of a bottle opening, then another, and Dylan was back in front of him, handing him a cold beer. Chris bit his lip, somewhat peeved at Dylan’s arrogance, but he accepted the bottle with a resigned sigh. 

“What are you going to wear?” Dylan asked, leaning gracefully against the counter as Chris took a long sip. “You should wear the blue button up,” he suggested in response to Chris’s shrug.

Chris couldn’t remember whether Dylan had ever seen him in a dress shirt, but he brushed off the thought, seeing as he could barely remember what he wore one day to the next. “Can’t. It’s at the dry cleaners.”

“Not that one.”

Chris narrowed his eyes, the distant echo of an alarm sounding in his head, but Dylan was stepping forward, gripping the front of Chris’s shirt and moving in for a kiss. Without thinking, Chris nudged their mouths together, eyes fluttering shut as he sucked at Dylan’s lower lip, dry heat crawling up through his body, eclipsing his other senses until he pulled back abruptly, blinking like he’d just awoken from a dream. He turned away, took a long swig of beer to drown out the desire still humming in his limbs, and headed toward the bedroom. 

Dylan followed, resting easily against the doorframe as Chris set the bottle on his dresser and sat on the bed to pull off his shoes and socks. He stood and unbuttoned his cardigan, ignoring the feel of Dylan’s eyes hot on his skin. 

“Can I blow you?” Dylan asked, taking a few steps into the room. 

“No,” Chris said curtly, turning away, tugging off his belt. He heard the creak of the wood frame as Dylan dropped onto the mattress.

“You sure? Going on a date with a loaded gun…brash move.”

Chris chuckled nervously, and he fumbled with the buttons of his fly, his cock heavy from the memory of that stupid kiss.

“Alright, your choice,” Dylan said, settling back against the pillows. “Can I at least jerk off while I watch you change?”

Chris froze, halfway through pulling his t-shirt up over his head. His cock reacted instantaneously, tightening against the elastic of his boxer-briefs. He remembered to breathe, to move, and pulled his shirt off the rest of the way. “Whatever.”

He heard Dylan unzip behind him, followed by the unmistakable slap of skin on skin, Dylan wasting no time as he began to stroke himself. Chris’s hand drifted to his crotch before he could think about it, palming the length of his erection, wondering if he should even bother trying to prevent the inevitable. Cursing his long-gone resolve, Chris made short work of his boxers and jeans. With his back to Dylan, he felt exposed, naked, but when he turned around, gripping his cock, he could see the want in Dylan’s eyes and a feeling of power swept through him.

The sight of Dylan sprawled across his bed went straight to his dick, grown impossibly hard in his fist. He gave himself a few strokes, felt a drop of pre-cum sliding down the tip as Dylan arched off the bed, panting and wild-eyed like he was already close.

A few short steps and Chris was by the bed, close enough to press Dylan’s shoulder against the mattress as his other hand worked steadily at his own prick. Dylan stared at him with an unnerving intensity, and it made Chris push harder, digging his fingers into skin as Dylan moaned his name. 

“Chris, fuck…so hot...love to watch you…” 

“Yeah? You like that?”

“Yeah…unh, god,” Dylan moaned. He had both hands on himself now, squeezing roughly at his balls as he pumped furiously at his dick.

“You’re gonna come all over yourself, aren’t you? So fucking dirty,” Chris growled. He had a knee on the bed now, practically on top of Dylan, and he was so close to coming that he could taste it in the back of his throat, and it made him mad, pleasure and anger mixing and swirling in his brain.

“Yeah, fuck…Chris…come on me…mark me… _please_ ,” Dylan gasped, and Chris looked down to see the first pearly drops of come spurt from Dylan’s cock. Chris ground his teeth as his orgasm shuddered through him in response, fingers still gripping his shaft as he splattered his release across Dylan’s stomach. Dylan laughed and caught his eye, trailed fingertips up through their mingled juices and touched them to his lips. His eyes issued a dare, and Chris was almost tempted to accept, to kiss the musky taste of himself off of Dylan’s mouth. But at the last second he pulled away, the jagged edge of reality tearing into his thoughts. Want was replaced by disgust, and Dylan regained the upper hand, smirking as he tugged his t-shirt down over his still-damp torso. 

Chris dressed quickly, fingers trembling as he tried to button up the first shirt he’d grabbed from his closet, a blue one. Dylan watched him from the bed, gave a low whistle when Chris stood up from pulling on his shoes.

“Jesus, Chris. If Zach saw you now, he’d be on you so fast you wouldn’t know what hit you.”

Chris glanced in the mirror, and he couldn’t help but realize that Dylan might not be wrong. He looked sexy as fuck. His damp hair was artfully tousled, his eyes hooded, dark with self-hatred, his lips pouty and red. His muscles felt loose and adrenaline sang in his veins, and for one crazy second he pictured himself going to Zach’s place, standing in the doorway, seeing the expression on Zach’s face when he realized that it was Chris he’d been in love with all along…

Chris shook the ridiculous fantasy from his head and grabbed his wallet from the dresser.

“Want me to be here when you get back?” Dylan asked with a gleam in his eye.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“You always say that.”

“I always mean it.”

“Fine, I’ll just wait for you to call, then.”

“Fuck off.” 

Dylan got off the bed and headed reluctantly for the door. Something made Chris say his name, made him ask the question he’d been pretending he didn’t want to ask. “What does Zach think you’re doing all the time? When we’re…hanging out.”

Dylan shrugged. “He doesn’t ask. Lets me have my own life, you know?” 

Chris nodded, swallowing down jealousy. Maybe that’s what Zach was doing, letting him have his own life. If only he knew how little of his own life he was actually living. 

“He knows I see you sometimes. I told him I check up on you.”

Chris shot him a look. That was news to him. “Is that what this is,” he said with a derisive laugh.

He wasn’t even sure if he believed Dylan, thought maybe he was lying about Zach knowing they hung out, because it hurt like fuck to think about, Zach knowing and letting it happen and never even calling, letting Dylan do the dirty work for him. 

God, he had to put a fucking end to this.

**

“Was that the doorbell?” Chris mumbled, shifting a little on the couch. The sound had been obscured by the cacophony of noise coming from Grand Theft Auto on his flat screen surround sound, but he was pretty sure he’d heard the doorbell ring. He thought about getting up, but his limbs felt heavy, his whole body sated and wrung out. They’d been on the couch for…fuck, hours now, most of it with Dylan’s mouth on his cock. Dylan had taken his time, slowly letting the pressure build, licking and touching with focused intent as Chris wrecked car after car on the screen until he ran out of lives. Then he dropped the remote and fisted his hands in Dylan’s hair and groaned as Dylan sucked his brains out through his dick. And afterwards, Dylan didn’t pull away, he just let his mouth go slack, let Chris’s cock soften against the flat of his tongue. Chris whimpered a little when he started to suck again, but he was gentle as he slid wet lips over Chris’s sensitive shaft. He pulled off with a flick of his tongue, pressed his face into Chris’s crotch. 

Chris had turned his attention back to the game, so it took him a second to realize that Dylan was mumbling something against his thigh.

“What did you say?”

“I said, can I crash here for a while? I need a place to stay.”

“Shut the fuck up, Dylan.”

“I’m serious,” Dylan said, propping himself up on his elbows. 

“Dylan, if you honestly think I’d consider letting you move in with me, you’re even more delusional than I thought,” Chris muttered.

Hurt and anger flared in Dylan’s eyes before they shuttered with indifference and he shrugged. “Fine. I’ll ask Zach.” He picked up the controller and turned his attention back to the screen.

The threat sent a shock of fear through Chris, but he refused to acknowledge it. “Good luck with that.”

Dylan eyed him curiously. “You don’t think he’d let me?”

“Fuck no. He values his privacy way too much.” 

“Well, I think he’d say yes. To me.”

Chris looked at him. “Look, Dyl, no offense, but I know Zach, and there’s no way he’s going to let you move in with him. That level of commitment freaks him out. Plus, he needs his space. He loves living alone. Your constant, annoying presence would wreak total havoc on his feng shui.”

Dylan held his gaze. “Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do,” he said quietly. Chris swallowed, trying to think of a response, but anything he could have said flew from his mind as Dylan leaned down to take Chris’s softening cock into his damp, skillful mouth. 

When the doorbell rang half an hour later, Chris had only just gathered the energy to zip his jeans, and the dimly lit room still smelled like spunk. Dylan was sprawled next to him with the controller, focused on the game, one leg thrown lazily over Chris’s lap. Chris leaned forward to reach for his beer, took a sip and made a face at the warm, stale taste that filled his mouth. The doorbell rang again, but before Chris could think about moving, the knob turned and someone pushed open the door. 

Late afternoon sunlight streamed into the room, making Chris squint, and he knew immediately who it would be, who it was, even before he saw the silhouette of Zach’s tall figure, backlit and framed in the doorway. He smiled toward Zach and wondered if it looked anything like his real smile.

“Hey, Chris,” Zach said, nodding. “Have you seen – oh.” His eyes adjusted to the light and he caught sight of Dylan on the couch, the controller hanging from his hand as he looked at Zach. “Dylan.”

“Hey, Zach.”

“I, uh.” Zach’s eyes flicked to Chris, then away, quickly, and a flare of annoyance crossed his face as he turned his attention to Dylan. “I thought we were going to Santa Monica today,” he said, his voice tight with restraint, arms crossed against his chest. “You were supposed to come over.”

Dylan stood quickly, his demeanor morphing from his usual air of casual indifference to an affronted anger Chris had never seen in him before. “Jesus, Zach,” he spat, “you came here _looking_ for me?”

“You didn’t answer your phone, and it’s been like three hours,” Zach said, his tone shifting to a pleading whine that made Chris wince with the weakness of it. 

“Three hours, heaven forbid,” Dylan sneered, rolling his eyes. “You’re so goddamn anal all the time. Try to fucking relax for once in your life. Anyway, I was about to leave, wasn’t I, Chris?”

Chris looked between them, swallowing dryly, his mind fizzing into static as he watched the twisted drama playing out before him, these strange versions of people he thought he’d known.

“You know, I had something all planned out for you, Zach,” Dylan continued, shaking his head now, as though he were disappointed. “Something special. But, I don’t know, you’ve kind of ruined it now.”

His words seemed to have an immediate effect on Zach, who suddenly looked as though he’d just been scolded, eyes lowering, mouth turning down at the corners as Chris looked on in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” Zach said, his voice quiet. “I didn’t realize…”

“Yeah, well –“ Dylan paused, and the aggressiveness seemed to seep from his frame as he relaxed into a flirty smile. “Maybe it’s not too late…” Zach’s eyes lit up with relief as Dylan took a few steps for him, and they reached for each other, hands intertwining. “I know this sweet private beach we can sneak onto,” Dylan said, leaning into Zach, nuzzling their noses together. “We’ll go night swimming. We’ll go skinny dipping out under the full moon, how does that sound?”

“Sounds great,” Zach answered, wrapping his hand around Dylan’s head and pulling him in for a deep kiss. Chris watched from the couch, unable to tear his eyes away though he burned with a jealousy he knew he didn’t deserve. Dylan pressed his tongue into Zach’s mouth and let his hand wander down Zach’s side, thumb stroking against his hip bone as he pulled their bodies together. Then he pulled away abruptly, leaving Zach gasping, eyes glazed over with want. 

“Wait outside for me, okay, baby?” Dylan cooed, his voice sweet and cloying. “I’ll be out in a minute.” 

Zach’s eyes flicked to Chris, but only for a second, pulled back to Dylan like a magnet, flashing him a grateful smile before turning obediently to leave.

The door clicked shut behind him, shaking Chris out of his spell. He met Dylan’s smirk with a disbelieving expression. 

“What the hell was that?” Chris asked. 

Dylan shrugged and walked over to the couch, and Chris shrunk back against the cushions instinctively. “Oh come on,” Dylan scoffed, his arm brushing Chris’s shoulder as he leaned into his space. “I’ve gotta go take care of business,” Dylan whispered, running his knuckles down Chris’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon. Think about what I said.” Chris didn’t answer, but he parted his lips as Dylan closed the distance between them, slid his tongue against Dylan’s, once, twice, and sucked in a breath as Dylan pulled away. 

*

Alone in the dark, Chris’s mind raced. Something had changed, or maybe nothing had changed, maybe Chris was just waking up from some hazy, alcohol-filled dream he’d been living in. Seeing Zach again had reminded Chris what this whole, fucked-up thing with Dylan was all about. Chris grimaced – just thinking about Dylan made his dick hurt, and not in a good way. The way he’d lashed out at Zach, the way Zach had acquiesced, the whole thing was weird, and it gave Chris the chills.

He pictured them on some idyllic beach somewhere, moon shining on the dark water. Zach would love it, of course, he was a sucker for that kind of romantic shit. Chris pounded a fist on the arm of the couch as he let the frustration and anger bubble up inside, doubling him over with the force of wishing that he was the one on that beach with Zach.

In his mind, he could see the two of them, lit up in a bright strip of moonlight, Dylan reaching to push a lock of hair out of Zach’s eyes, smiling that fucking smile, and asking if he could stay with Zach, just for a little while. And how could Zach say no, to that smile in the moonlight?

The urgency of the revelation had Chris bolting upright on the couch, reaching for his phone. It was all so clear, what he had to do.

If he wanted a chance, any chance, with Zach, he had to ask Dylan to move in with him.

*

Dylan didn’t answer his text that night, or the one the next day, or any of the twelve he sent the following day. He wasn’t picking up any of Chris’s calls, either, and after six days Chris had convinced himself that Dylan’s phone had probably gotten lost on the beach, or maybe fucked up by the sand, so he got in his car and drove to the address where he’d first picked Dylan up for the Lakers game.

He knocked on the door, shifted nervously from foot to foot and shot a couple nervous glances behind him through his sunglasses. The door opened, and Chris managed a smile at the man who opened the door, a well-dressed producer-type with slicked-back hair who eyed him with a suspicious expression.

“Can I help you?” 

“Uh, yeah, I’m looking for…your brother?”

“My brother? My brother lives in Colorado.”

“Oh. Well…I’m looking for Dylan Harrison?”

The man’s face darkened and he glanced back into the house quickly before leaning menacingly toward Chris. Chris took an instinctive step backwards. 

“Get the fuck away from my house.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I don’t know who you are, but anyone associated with Dylan…Harrison, or whatever the fuck he’s calling himself these days, is not welcome anywhere near me or my family. He’s a lying, manipulative bastard and a thief, and he should know better than to have his fucking lowlife friends coming within 500 yards of my property. So get the fuck out of my sight right now, or I will call the fucking police.”

Chris had backed away during the man’s tirade, the words tearing at him like knives. He ran, literally ran, across the street and down the block, and he was sweating by the time he pushed into the chilled air of a convenience store to buy a pack of cigarettes.

He sat on a bench to light up, his hands shaking. He took a drag, thankful for the burn in his lungs because at least he was breathing now, in, out, hoping the action would calm his pounding heart. His fingers still trembled as he pulled out his phone and stabbed at Zach’s number on the touchscreen. 

_Please answer, please answer…_. Still, he was caught off guard, smoke catching in his throat, when Zach answered with a curt, “Hello?”

“Zach.” It came out choked, and he pulled the phone away from his mouth to take another puff.

“What’s up, Chris?”

“Dylan has been lying to you.”

“Oh my god, Chris, _please_ don’t start this shit again.”

“Just listen to me-“

“No, I’m not listening,” Zach hissed into the phone. “It’s too late, Chris. And if you’re so _fucking_ concerned about Dylan, why don’t you stop inviting him into your apartment to sit on your couch and play video games together or whatever the _fuck_ you’re doing with him all the time, huh?”

“No, listen, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. He knows weird things about me, Zach, _he_ is the one who shows up at _my_ door, and I don’t know why-“

“Maybe because you let him in."

“Zach, listen to me, he’s not who he says he is-“

“What are you talking about? Hold on-” Chris heard him talking to someone, his voice muffled as though he were holding the phone against his shoulder. “That’s fine, you can set it there. No, we can do the rest, thanks.” Chris could hear the derision in his voice as he turned back to the phone. “You were saying?”

“I went to – Wait, what are you _doing_?”

A beat passed, and when Zach spoke again the words sent a stone plummeting into Chris’s gut. “I was trying to tell you, but you couldn’t hear me over your paranoia. I told Dylan he could move in with me.”

“No!”

“He was looking for a place, and-“

“Zach, no! No, you can’t, you _can’t_!”

“I’m not doing this again, Chris,” Zach said wearily, and Chris could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Just listen, Zach,” Chris went on, his voice rising as he barreled over Zach’s protests. “Have you ever been to Dylan’s place? Just answer that, okay?”

“Yes, Chris, I’ve been to Dylan’s place a bunch of times.”

“Have you been inside his house?”

“Well…no.”

“Have you ever even seen his car? Or has it always been in the shop?”

“His brother was borrowing –“

“That’s _bullshit_ , Zach. I went to that house, I knocked on the door, the guy was not his brother, and he was _pissed_.”

“Yeah, well, I’d be pissed, too, if some random guy shows up knocking on my door-“

“Shut up, Zach, listen, I am not being paranoid.”

“Really.”

“You know I wouldn’t do this, do you fucking know how hard it was for me to even call you? After what I saw in my apartment, the way Dylan treated you, the way you _let_ him treat you? I felt fucking sick watching that, Zach, what’s happened to you?”

“What happened to _you_?” 

Chris could feel the sheen of sweat on his forehead and he squeezed the phone to keep his hand from shaking. Zach’s breathing filled the silence, loud in his ear.

You happened, he wanted to say. Dylan happened, and everything is fucked up. Instead he sucked in a ragged lungful of air and breathed out his last chance.

“Just do me one favor, Zach?”

“What.”

“Will you just…look through his stuff? See if he has my tape, okay?”

“Tape?”

“The one I lent you. The play, remember. You said you don’t have it, but I can’t find it anywhere, and…it’s just a weird feeling I have, Zach, just indulge me, okay?”

“I’m not looking through my boyfriend’s stuff because you have some weird vendetta against him-“

“Zach, _please_." Chris felt like he was suddenly on the verge of tears and he glanced around, suddenly self conscious about the fact that he was in public, though there was no one close enough to hear. “Please. _For me_.”

Zach didn’t answer right away, and the silence was deafening. 

“Bye, Chris.”

“Zach!” Chris threw his phone on the ground in frustration and buried his face in his hands. A minute later he picked it up to find that the screen had shattered. A few fruitless attempts to turn the power on, and he shoved it into his pocket with a muttered curse. Not that it mattered, anyway. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be hearing from Zach for a long, long time.

 

***

 

Somehow, Chris wasn’t surprised to find Dylan sitting on the couch when he got back to his apartment, despite the fact that he’d never given him a key.

Chris dropped his bag inside the door and rifled through the mail in his hands, avoiding Dylan’s eyes. 

“So I guess it’s over,” he said, not looking up.

“You talked to Zach?” Dylan’s voice was sharp.

“Yeah, I did.” He didn’t share the details of their conversation.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” Dylan said, standing up. “I didn’t mean for it to happen this way, it’s just that everything’s going so well with Zach…”

Chris gave Dylan a discerning look. He wanted to confront him, about the house, the accusations, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not yet. He’d given too much of himself, and he couldn’t bring himself to let reality pierce through these last few moments with Dylan.

“So I guess we should fuck.”

Dylan’s words, dropped casually into the charged space between them, hit Chris like a shockwave.

“ _What_?”

“You heard me,” he said, looking at Chris through his lashes with a calculated smile. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

In all their time together, they’d never gotten to that point. Never gotten close, really, because every time Dylan tried to slide a finger or a tongue in that direction, Chris had flinched away, curling into himself, sometimes going soft and having to get up and have a drink before they could even get back to what they were doing. It had always felt like too much, too real. 

“I haven’t.”

Dylan shrugged. “Well, you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you? Thinking about what it would be like. Don’t you want to know?”

No. Chris tried desperately to work his tongue around the word, but the truth was, he _was_ thinking about it now, and he _did_ want to know, and he knew that Dylan could see it in his eyes. Finally his voice cracked and he choked out a broken, “No.”

“No?” Dylan said it like he was shocked, and maybe a little hurt, that Chris would refuse his generous proposal. He looked away, chewed his lip like he was considering something, then looked back at Chris with a thoughtful expression. “I’ll break up with Zach.”

“What?” The word came out scratchy, and he cleared his throat, tried again. “No you won’t.”

“I will. I swear. I’ll tell him it’s over, I’ll move out.”

“Why?”

“Don’t be stupid, Chris.” His lip curled, and Chris’s expression must have betrayed him, because Dylan seemed to take a perverse pleasure in his surprise. “I never wanted Zach. I mean, it’s been fun and all, but you’re the one... Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed watching you gag on my cock, I love it when you fuck my throat raw, but this… He narrowed his eyes, took a step toward Chris. “You give me this one last thing, and I’ll give you a chance at what you’ve always wanted.”

“And if I don’t?”

“And if you don’t…” He crossed his arms like he’d known he’d get a chance to say this, to finish his little monologue. “I’ll move in with Zach, and we’ll fuck happily ever after. Is it really that hard a decision, Chris? Jesus. You want to fuck Zach, don’t you? Consider this your final exam.”

The words had their intended effect. As much as he hated to admit it, Dylan had given him quite an education. Fuck knows that somewhere in the midst of rushing to orgasm, squirming with self-loathing while disgust and desire churned like jet fuel in his bowels, he’d learned to suck dick like a pro. Dylan Harrison’s fucking stamp of manwhore approval. They should make a ribbon for that.

He glanced up at Dylan, who was smiling like he knew Chris’s answer, and Chris felt the familiar sick burn of fury and craving, shot through now with a strand of feeble hope that Dylan would do what he’d said, that he’d break up with Zach and get the fuck out of their lives forever.

Dylan’s eyes lit up when he saw Chris give in, saw the last of the protests and denials slide from his shoulders. Chris was struck by the sincerity of Dylan’s excitement; there was nothing fake about the way his face flushed and his pupils dilated as he reached out to touch Chris’s arm. 

“It’ll be good, Chris, I swear,” he breathed, his transformation so complete that Chris could almost let himself forget the wicked twist in his smile moments earlier and the easy way he could manipulate words to fuck with Chris’s head.

“I…fuck, Dylan,” Chris muttered, looking away, pressing a palm to his forehead. Dylan had come up close and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Dylan…”

“Come on,” Dylan said, tangling their fingers together. “Bedroom.”

Chris let Dylan lead him down the hallway. Stood dumbly in the middle of the room while Dylan rifled around in his bedside table, shooting him a triumphant grin as he came up with a condom. He had a sudden image of the two of them on the bed, his bed, and he crossed his arms tightly across his chest as a wave of doubt crashed over him. 

“Hey,” Dylan said, his face softening as he moved toward Chris. He put his arms out, ran his hands lightly up and down Chris’s arms. “Relax, baby.” He leaned in, lips brushing Chris’s cheek. Chris shut his eyes and took a deep breath, tried not to shudder. Dylan’s voice seduced him, a whisper curling into his ear, taking the place of the conscience he hadn’t heard from in so long. “You want him, don’t you?” 

Chris gave a sharp nod. He kept his eyes screwed shut but gave into the gentle pressure of Dylan’s fingers on his cheek, turning his face, pursing his lips as Dylan pressed a kiss to his mouth, and fuck if this didn’t feel _familiar_. Chris hated himself for even thinking it, but it was true, the pattern their lips and tongues would take already known to him, the soft sound of Dylan’s moan going straight to his cock. He pulled away roughly, staring down at the floor of his bedroom. “Come on,” he grunted. “Let’s get on with it.”

He shrugged off Dylan’s hands, pulled his own shirt off over his head, unzipped his own fly, keeping his thoughts and eyes on his own motions. He didn’t even look at Dylan again until they were on the bed, Dylan on his hands and knees, reaching back to hand Chris the condom. Chris took it without meeting his eyes.

He swallowed hard as he tore open the package and slid the condom on with trembling hands, stroking himself a little to stay hard. He could feel Dylan looking back at him, but he kept his eyes on Dylan’s ass, smooth and pale and crudely displayed before him. “Do I have to…”

“Nah,” Dylan said, and Chris could hear his smirk. “Just put it in. _Fuck, Chris_.” Chris had moved closer on the bed, and he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction as he heard Dylan’s voice tremble. He could posture and seduce all he wanted, but at moments like this, Chris knew he was the one with the power, knew that Dylan wasn’t lying about how much he wanted this. 

Chris took a deep breath and took hold of his cock, tilted his hips forward to touch the latex-covered head to Dylan’s puckered hole-

“Yeah, Chris, come on,” Dylan murmured in encouragement. Chris could see his fingers twisting in the sheets as he held himself still. “Come on.”

Chris felt bile rising in the back of his throat as he moved the barest millimeter closer, nudging at Dylan’s opening. His fingers tightened on his shaft as he tried to picture pressing inside, tried to imagine Dylan clenching around him – no. Not Dylan. Zach. This was Zach he was touching, Zach who was in front of him, asking, begging for Chris to do it, come on, fuck him already.

Cold sweat poured down Chris’s forehead and he realized that he was shaking all over, his cock twitching, bumping against Dylan’s crack, and he leaned back, pulled away, one hand over his mouth while the other curled protectively around his rapidly softening cock. 

“I can’t,” he said, his voice trembling, breaking. He felt like he was on the edge of tears, which was stupid and ridiculous. “I’m sorry.”

He risked a glance at Dylan’s face and immediately wished he hadn’t. He’d expected annoyance, maybe that look that Dylan gave him when he was disappointed in Chris, the one that said “I tried to do something nice for you, and you’ve let me down.” But the look on Dylan’s face right now was one he hadn’t seen before, disbelief morphing into anger, real anger, the curve of his lips not a smirk or a smile, but a bitter, hateful sneer. 

“You’re sorry? _Fuck_ you, Chris. I should have fucking known that this would happen,” Dylan spat, turning around. He was up on his knees, in Chris’s face. “You’re such a little pussy, you know that?” Chris wasn’t expecting the shove in the chest, and he had to throw an arm out behind him to keep from falling backwards. “Fucking asshole. Fucking cocktease. What’s wrong, huh? I’m not good enough for you to stick your dick into?”

“No, Dylan, it’s not-“ Chris tried to sound remorseful, pleading. He didn’t have to try too hard. 

“What is it then? Why won’t – I’m sorry, why _can’t_ you fuck me, huh? You little bitch.”

“Jesus, Dylan, don’t be so-“

“FUCK YOU,” Dylan roared, shoving him hard in the chest. Chris flailed his arms as he felt himself tipping off the bed, but Dylan reached forward and grabbed him by the shoulders at the last second. Chris felt a shock of relief, but it was short-lived, as Dylan threw him forward onto his stomach. He thrashed wildly, but Dylan was strong, and he’d fucking seen those abs, those biceps, so why was he so surprised at the ease with which Dylan held him down? 

Dylan’s hands pinned his arms to the mattress, his legs tight on either side of Chris’s thighs as he straddled him. Chris struggled underneath him, bucking up, trying to throw him, but it was no good. He let himself go limp and took a deep breath, waiting until he could gather more strength.

Dylan took the opportunity to lean down and whisper cruelly in his ear. “You know what, Chris? You’re right. The way we were doing it…that didn’t make any sense. After all, it’s Zach you want, isn’t it? Well, guess what. Zach doesn’t like to be fucked. Zach likes to fuck. So really, you should be learning how to take it.”

“What,” Chris gasped, his mouth open, his breaths coming faster as the implications of Dylan’s words sunk in. “No. Dylan, stop!”

“Why should I? Huh? Are you saving yourself for him? Is Chrissy’s little ass too precious for anyone but perfect, wonderful Zach? Is that it?” Dylan sat back up and wrenched Chris’s left arm behind his back. “Fuck you!” Chris groaned in pain, tried again to struggle but pain shot through his shoulder at the motion. 

“You fucking owe me, Chris,” Dylan snarled. “After everything I’ve done for you.” Another burst of pain through Chris’s right arm as Dylan yanked it back, pinning his wrists together with one hand. “Everything I’ve done for you, Chris, and you can’t even give me this one thing.”

“Dylan,” Chris wheezed, fighting the agony in his shoulders and the urge to vomit. “Wait, Dylan, wait-“

“You don’t get it, do you? I _loved_ you-“

“Dylan-“

“SHUT UP! Shut the fuck up and let me talk!”

Chris shut his mouth, squeezed his eyes shut. He felt Dylan’s nails digging into his wrists.

“I loved you, from the moment I laid eyes on you. You probably don’t even remember, but I was there, at the _Star Trek_ premiere. You signed my poster…you smiled at me, and I knew we were meant to be together. I wanted to tell you, but it was like you were avoiding me or something. I even waited outside your building to try to talk to you. Why do you think I was there that night, Chris? _I’m_ the one that wanted you. Not Zach. He couldn’t even make it to your door without hitting on someone else. And yet you still insist on sobbing _his_ fucking name when you come. That asshole doesn’t deserve you! You want ME, Chris, don’t you get it?!”

Chris was starting to get it. Fear and understanding congealed in his stomach, and the sweat dripping down his temples felt like ice.

“Chris…” Dylan’s voice wavered, and he reached up to stroke a gentle hand over Chris’s hair. “I’m sorry. God, I wish…I wish it didn’t have to be like this, you know?”

Chris’s heart leapt in his chest. Was this his chance?

“Dylan-“ Dylan’s hand paused in his hair, but he didn’t say anything, just waited for Chris to continue. “I’m sorry, okay? For…for hurting you. I didn’t mean it. I…care about you. Not Zach. I mean, it was Zach at first, but now, I don’t know, I find myself thinking about you and-“

“LIAR!” The accusation was accompanied by a painful tug on his hair, sharp enough to pull his head back. A low laugh bubbled up from Dylan’s throat. “Fucking Chris Pine, man. They should nominate that shit for an Oscar.”

“Dylan-“

Dylan let go of Chris’s hair and clamped a hand over his mouth instead. “No. We’re done talking.” He gave Chris a light slap on the cheek and sat up, his tight grip on Chris’s wrists never loosening. “Now, where were we? Oh yes. I was going to show you what it feels like to get fucked.”

Chris jerked instinctively, throwing his last reserves of strength into his muscles, twisting and writhing as he tried to shake Dylan off of him. His efforts were rewarded with a sharp knee to his right kidney that left him gasping, stomach churning as pain coursed through him. Dylan pressed his weight down on Chris’s body. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

He heard the wet splat of Dylan spitting into his palm, then the familiar sound of skin on skin as Dylan stroked himself, smearing saliva over his dick. Chris was beyond fighting back now, his body weak, muscles shaking uncontrollably in terror at what was about to happen. He tried to suck in a breath, surprised to find that his nose was running, and he realized with a throb of shame that tears were streaming down his cheeks. 

He wanted to try again, one more time, to tell Dylan stop, to beg, but when he opened his mouth, the words wouldn’t come, and a sob heaved in his throat. Dylan chuckled and moved above him, and he felt the press of slick flesh sliding along his crack. 

“Fuck, Chris. Look at you,” Dylan murmured. “This is going to feel so fucking good.”

The bulbous head of Dylan’s bare cock rubbed against his hole, but Chris only dimly registered the sensation. His mind was flying as he tried desperately to find himself somewhere else, to think of anything but this – a meadow, baseball, the Captain’s chair, Zach – no, not Zach, no, please – he didn’t want to associate Zach with this moment, this terrible, fucked up moment –

He was pulled from his thoughts by a sound, someone calling his name, but it wasn’t Dylan – he heard it again, “Chris!” and a sound like a door, and footsteps. Behind him, Dylan cursed, and Chris felt a burning, stinging pain as the tip of Dylan’s dick breached his asshole. Chris saw stars behind his eyelids, a wave of darkness rushing toward him like he was going to pass out, and he welcomed it, hurried it along, _please please take me away_ -

The bedroom door crashed open, and Chris was slammed back into his body, his eyes open, fighting for breath as he choked on his own snot. A cry of pain filled his ears as Dylan’s cock was abruptly torn from his aching hole. He clenched his fists in the comforter, stifling another sob, before it occurred to him to turn and see what was going on. He whipped his head around just in time to see Zach throw Dylan bodily against the wall.

Dylan slid to the floor for a second, dazed, before scrambling to his feet. “Zach, it’s not-“

Zach curled his left hand into a fist, pulled it back, and punched Dylan squarely in the cheek. Dylan stumbled backwards, smacking his head against the wall before he dropped into a crumpled pile on the floor. Zach stood over him, shaking his hand. “Stay the fuck down.”

On the bed, Chris had a fleeting wish that he’d been more alert and better able to appreciate what had just happened, but the thought was quickly replaced by a full body shiver. He curled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest with trembling arms. He must have whimpered, or made some kind of sound, because suddenly Zach was there, wrapping the comforter around him and murmuring soothing sounds into his ear. 

He barely had time to be grateful for the small comfort before Zach was moving away, and Chris flailed out a hand to try to keep him there. But Zach had stepped away from the bed, pulling out his phone to dial three short numbers.

Chris closed his eyes and listened to Zach’s voice through a fog of exhaustion. 

“I’d like to report a break-in and attempted assault.” No, Chris thought dully, that wasn’t right, he’d _let_ Dylan in, and…assault, no, shit, that would fucking kill his career. He wanted to tell Zach to stop, but his mouth wouldn’t form words, and he wondered if he was going into shock.

“Yeah, he’s here. He’s not going anywhere. Dylan Harrison- sorry, I mean Dylan Cleaver. I spoke with a detective about him earlier today, Detective Krohl. He should be expecting my call.”

Chris tried to process what he was hearing, but either his mind wasn’t working, or he was missing _a lot_.

The world went gray around the edges, and he was only dimly aware of the passage of time, a harsh, whispered exchange of words, strong hands tucking and re-tucking the blanket around him, doors opening, footsteps, and the low murmur of Zach’s voice in the background, even and comforting as Chris drifted into darkness.

**

Chris jerked awake, flailing under the heat of blankets and arms, fighting for breath.

“Shhhh. Shh, shh…Chris, it’s me, it’s Zach.”

“Dylan,” Chris gasped, panic shooting through his veins, “get off, get…fuck out-“

“Dylan’s gone, he’s gone, Chris-“ The hand clutching his was large and warm, the voice deep and concerned, but no, it was Dylan pretending to be Zach, it had to be. “He’s not coming back, I promise. He can’t hurt you anymore. And neither will I.”

Chris stopped thrashing, blinking hard as he waited for his vision to adjust to the dark. Sweat-damp hair stuck to his forehead, and his chest rose and fell as his breathing slowly settled into a normal rhythm. He turned his head slightly to catch sight of Zach in the darkness, looking at him with worried eyes.

“I didn’t mean to scare you…you were so cold, you were shaking, so I…but I can leave, if you want.”

The thought of Zach leaving almost sent Chris into a panic again. He shook his head frantically, not trusting himself to speak, and squeezed Zach’s hand so hard his fingers ached. 

“Okay,” Zach whispered, “I’ll stay.” Chris wondered if he was imagining the relief in Zach’s voice, the way his face softened and his frown lines smoothed as he relaxed into comfort mode once again. 

Chris didn’t dare close his eyes, couldn’t take the risk that this might all be a dream. Zach was here, with him, in his bed, and it was too much, and not enough, the culmination of a terrible campaign, and yet so familiar and so right that he could almost pretend that they were back at the beginning, that night they’d read the script, the night everything had changed. 

A sudden impulse had him closing the gap between them, pressing his lips against Zach’s in a move he hadn’t known he’d wanted to make those many months ago. He only had a moment to register the sensation, to feel Zach’s warm, dry lips against his own before he felt a hand on his chest and Zach pushed him gently away. “Whoa, Chris. You can’t just….do that.” Zach sounded short of breath, and Chris was panting, too, the blood thundering in his ears. And maybe he should have felt embarrassed, stupid for rushing, for assuming - but the heat from Zach’s flushed skin, the subtle movement of the fingertips pressed against his chest told him he wasn’t alone in wanting this.

Still, there was only one way to know for sure.

“Zach,” he breathed, letting it out in a rush, scared that otherwise the words wouldn’t make it past his pounding heart. “I want to kiss you. Do you want to kiss me?” 

He waited, watched as a flood of emotions flickered in Zach’s eyes, and took solace in the fact that pity was not among them. 

“Yes,” Zach whispered, with an almost imperceptible nod. “Yeah, I do.”

Chris leaned in again, and this time Zach met him halfway. The kiss was hesitant, tender, and so different from what Chris was used to that he was instantly hard. He blushed at his body’s reaction, not quite sure what to do with himself, so he followed Zach’s lead, and they kissed for a while, softly and quietly in the darkness. Zach’s mouth was warm, and fit so perfectly against his own that it took his breath away. The soft brush of their tongues made him groan with pleasure. He wanted more; he wanted nothing but this for a lifetime. They drifted off to sleep between kisses before he could decide.

**

He woke up to light streaming in through the bedroom windows and an indent on the pillow where Zach’s head had been. He got up slowly, trying not to remember, and padded out of the bedroom and down the hall to find Zach sitting on the couch, head in his hands.

“Zach?”

Zach looked up at him, and it was obvious that he had been crying, tears still caught in his lashes. Instinct propelled Chris forward, and he was on the couch with his arms wrapped around Zach’s shoulders before he could even register the sudden shift in their roles.

“I’m so sorry, Chris,” Zach said, and Chris shushed him and brushed a kiss against his hair. They sat like that for a while, until Zach pulled away, leaned back against the cushions with a rueful chuckle. “God, he really fucked us up, didn’t he?” Zach said, running a hand through his hair.

“Zach, what happened? How did you even know-“ 

Zach threaded their fingers together, and Chris was grateful for the anchor of his touch.

“After you called, I….I resisted, I really did, but…I went through his stuff.”

“You _did_?”

“I was just going to look in one or two bags, but there was this box in one of them, it was taped shut and – fuck, Chris-“ Zach held a hand over his eyes, and Chris could tell that the tears were threatening to fall again. “It was so fucked up, he had- your tape and pictures of you and-“ – every word sounded like Zach was choking on it – “a pair of boxers that I knew were yours-“

“Jesus.”

Zach took a deep breath, squeezed Chris’s hand as he regained some control. “He had a bunch of documents in there, drivers licenses, credit card applications. I got really freaked out, I wasn’t sure what to do, so I…I went to the house, talked to the owner, that guy you talked to. He told me everything, how Dylan lied to them, stole from them, it was…you were right, Chris, and I didn’t see it, and I was so _stupid_ , how could I have…”

“Zach, don’t…you weren’t the only one, okay?” 

Zach scrubbed a hand over his face, wiped at the corners of his eyes with a knuckle. He kept his eyes on the floor, and Chris watched his profile as he spoke quietly, almost to himself. “Sometimes, I get mired in these patterns, these trajectories...and I convince myself that it’s too hard, or too late to try to change. You were right in front of me, and I was still telling myself…”

“That there was no fuckin’ way?” Chris breathed. 

Zach nodded, and Chris took a deep breath, ready to let him know just how much he understood, about Dylan, about trajectories, about being mired. “Zach, I have to tell you-“ 

“Chris-“ Zach stopped him with hard kiss on the lips. “Please don’t.” There was an urgency to his tone that made Chris close his mouth, staunching the flow of words that threatened to spill from his lips. “I don’t want to talk about him. Shit - there will be statements and a trial and – but right now, I don’t, okay? I just want to talk about us.”

Us. 

Chris leaned into him, felt Zach’s lips against his tangled hair, heard the rough desperation in his voice as he whispered against his temple. “Just tell me we can get through this, Chris. Tell me I’m not too late.”

“Come back to the bedroom,” Chris whispered, “and I’ll show you.”

Back in the bedroom, they slipped under the covers and Zach’s lips found his again, mouth warm and achingly perfect, fitting against his like Dylan’s never had. Their bodies were pressed together beneath the sheets, but Chris wanted to be even closer, wanted Zach to surround him, to swallow him whole.

He broke the kiss to bury his face in Zach’s neck. “Touch me,” he whispered.

“I want to.”

“Please, Zach.” He knew why Zach was hesitating, and he held back, tried not to push, not to plead like he wanted to. He yearned to tell Zach how much he needed this, needed to erase the feeling of Dylan’s hands from his skin, to replace those false memories with what they were always meant to be.

Zach’s hands roamed over his body, and he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down Chris's chest as they undressed each other beneath the blankets. Chris writhed with pleasure, and as Zach sucked a mark over his hipbone, he gave an involuntary cry and came, arching up off the bed, his cock jerking as it flung hot droplets across his stomach without ever being touched. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Chris cursed quietly, his face hot with embarrassment and anger, because it wasn’t supposed to have been that way, it was supposed to have been _perfect_. After everything, after all of that, and he’d still ended up losing it like a teenage boy being touched for the first time. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice a distraught whisper, “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh, don’t be sorry,” Zach murmured, nuzzling into his stomach, pausing to lick each drop of spunk from his skin with hot damp swipes of his tongue that set sweet fire to Chris’s skin. Their lips met again, frantic, messy. Chris breathed in the smell of Zach, sweat and hair product and a faint hint of cigarette smoke, and it was for him, it was finally all for him.

Then Zach pulled away abruptly, rolling onto his back, leaving Chris cold and gasping. He threw an arm over his face, breathing hard, and Chris’s eyes trailed down over his body, lingering where his cock curved up from a mass of dark curls and dripped onto his abs 

“What’s wrong?”

Zach leaned back, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I can’t, Chris.”

Chris closed his eyes, fought to keep his composure. He shouldn’t be surprised, he should have known – after all, hadn’t Dylan flat out told him that this would happen? _”Even you”_ , Dylan had said. Still, the way Zach had looked at him, kissed him, he’d thought maybe it would be different, maybe it wouldn’t matter, with him. 

He opened his eyes to find Zach watching him, allowed himself to bask in the tender gaze for a moment longer. He heard Dylan’s voice in his head, mocking him, _“Are you saving yourself for perfect Zach?”_ Zach reached for him, and he pulled away, anger flaring in his chest.

“What is it?” Zach asked with a frown.

“Nothing.”

“Chris…”

Chris balled his fists and let the frustration spill from his lips in a bitter torrent. “I just thought - I know I’ve never done this before, but…I never wanted any other guy but you, Zach, and I’m sorry if that sounds stupid, but it’s true. And I know you think I’m just some naïve straight guy who’s freaked out by gay stuff, but just because I wouldn’t…just because I haven’t-“ He was getting choked up, and he could feel Zach watching him, but he didn’t want to meet his eye, didn’t want to see the look on Zach’s face, so he plowed on. “I know that I want this, and I’m not some fragile little virgin who’s gonna puke all over your shoes.”

He heard Zach’s intake of breath and glanced up in time to see his expression shift from confusion to anger. Chris froze as he realized what he’d just said, and his eyes widened as Zach clenched his fist and aimed a punch at the mattress between them. “ _Fuck_ Dylan,” Zach burst. “Fuck him.” Their eyes met, and Chris was startled by the intensity of Zach’s gaze, so much so that he didn’t even flinch as Zach clutched at his arm. “Chris, listen to me. I-“ He paused to give a helpless little laugh. “God, Chris, it’s nothing like that. I don’t care about any of that, not with you. All that stuff I said, about you being freaked out, it was just a way for me to protect myself against…against wanting something I thought I could never have.”

“Then…why did you stop?”

“I stopped because I want you so much, too much…and I’ve wanted you for so long…” He chuckled. “You want to know the truth? I was worried that if I didn’t stop I’d lose it all over your stomach before we even got to the good part.”

He looked at Chris, waiting, and Chris reached for him, held onto him so that he wouldn’t shake apart with the force of his emotions. He knew he should feel only relief but instead he was trembling with rage, rage at Dylan’s lies and at how easily he’d believed them, rage at the time that they’d lost and at the toxic memories he’d created in its place. 

He took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts from his mind. There would be plenty of time for anger and the inevitable breakdown later. Now, he pressed a clumsy kiss to Zach’s neck and whispered, “Let’s get to the good part.”

Zach bit his lip and ran a hand down Chris’s bare side, pausing to cup the swell of his ass, and Chris could sense his hesitation. “I don’t want to rush things.”

“A few minutes ago, you were worried that it was too late,” Chris whispered back to him. “Now you’re worried it’s too soon?”

“I…”

“We’ve both been waiting for this, wanting this. I know you don’t want to hear about it, but Zach, you need to know that it’s always been you.”

“Chris, I’m so sorry -“

“It’s okay. I just…I want you…" _to fuck me_ was in the back of his throat but he couldn’t get it out, couldn’t make himself say it. Zach met his eyes and touched a finger to his lips.

“I know,” Zach said, and Chris could see his willpower failing, whatever justification it was that was running through his head, tell him that it was okay, that they _needed_ this.

Then Zach’s fingers were coated in lube, and clumsy kisses accompanied the blunt pressure of Zach’s thumb against his asshole, pushing in with such unexpectedly delicious friction that Chris gasped out loud.

They were shaking together, Zach with restraint and Chris with anticipation, as Zach removed his thumb and pressed a long finger into him, then another, deep and twisting. Zach’s lips and tongue seemed to find every sensitive place on his body, places he’d forgotten: the skin beneath his earlobe, the hinge of his jaw, the ridge of his collarbone. He clenched his teeth so he wouldn’t cry out, but Zach traced the set of his jaw with a finger and whispered, “Tell me.”

He couldn’t – if he opened his mouth, if he let himself go, who knew what would come out. Zach covered Chris’s mouth with his own and slid in a third finger, and Chris arched up off the bed and whimpered into his mouth, words spilling unbidden from his lips, though neither of them knew what they were.

Minutes or hours passed, until Chris’s jaw ached with kissing, and his asshole twitched when Zach pulled his fingers away. He heard the rustle of a condom, then felt the touch of latex against his entrance as Zach leaned in close again.

“This might hurt a little.”

“It won’t.” No matter how badly it stung, it couldn’t possibly feel worse than anything that had happened to him in the last six months.

Zach entered him gently, almost collapsing on top of him as he did, his body surrounding Chris’s. The air was damp with their sweat, and Zach’s chest hair tickled against his skin as he began to move, slowly at first, then harder, faster as Chris groaned his encouragement, his fingers scrabbling for purchase against Zach’s shoulderblades.

Chris was lost in a haze of sensation, bombarding his sober senses as he repeated Zach’s name, over and over with each thrust of Zach’s hips, each slide of his cock ratcheting up Chris’s pleasure until he could feel it in the back of his throat. Slick fingers wrapped around his length, and he was gone, and it was only the sound of his name on Zach’s lips that let him know that Zach was coming, too, pressed so deep inside him that Chris couldn’t imagine ever letting him go.

**

In the car outside the police station, Zach turned toward Chris, reached over to the passenger seat to take his hand. “You okay?”

Chris’s stomach was doing somersaults below his pounding heart, and he shook his head. “No.”

Zach rubbed a thumb across his knuckles and looked out the driver’s side window. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“Just so you know, I’m fully expecting to have some sort of emotional breakdown in the near future.” Zach gave him a sympathetic look, and the corner of Chris’s lips twitched. “The only cure for which, of course, is liberal application of Zachary Quinto’s magical healing cock.”

Zach chuckled, and squeezed his hand again. “I’m here for you.”

“Also years of therapy,” Chris said, not joking anymore. He watched Zach to gauge his reaction.

Zach nodded. “I seriously am here for you. For whatever. For as long as you need.”

“I know.”

They stared at the police station in front of them, the beginning and the end.

“This is a pretty fucked-up start to a relationship, isn’t it, Zach?”

“Yeah. But at least it’s a start.” Zach turned to Chris with the hint of a smile. “Come on. Let’s go inside and tell them everything we know.”

 

 ** _Epilogue_** – Ten months later

Chris peered out the bedroom window, his fingers tangled in the curtain where he’d pulled it back just enough to see outside. A row of tasteful lights traced the path from his door to the street, bright enough to illuminate most of the yard. A streetlight on the corner lit most of the sidewalk that ran along his front lawn, and he squinted into the shadows beyond, relaxed only when he was sure that the street was empty of any signs of life.

“Chris?” Zach’s sleepy mumble startled him out of his reverie. He glanced back at the bed, but stayed rooted to his spot at the window. “Why’re you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Chris turned his head back to the window like he was drawn there, his eyes automatically turning back to the deserted street, staring once more into the shadows.

“Come back to bed, babe,” Zach said softly.

“He got out today, Zach. Good behavior or some shit. Max emailed to tell me.” He hadn’t brought it up earlier, hadn’t wanted it to ruin their evening, but now it was all that he could think about.

Zach propped himself up on his elbows. “I know. But the restraining order remains in effect, and he doesn’t even know where you live now, Chris.”

“I know,” Chris said, but his expression was pained, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the window. “I see him everywhere,” he whispered. “I’m terrified that he’ll be there one day, hidden in the crowd, waiting for me.” 

He knew Zach wouldn’t be surprised by the admission, though it was one he usually tried to save for his therapist. Without even turning around he could sense Zach struggling with how to respond. “Ugh, I’m sorry, Zach,” he murmured, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. “I just want to stop thinking these thoughts, you know? I want him out of my fucking head.”

“Lobotomy?” Zach suggested. 

Chris chuckled despite himself. “God, I wish it were that easy. Eternal Sunshine of my Fucked Up Mind.”

“Maybe they could make it so that every time your thoughts start drifting toward him, you think about me instead,” Zach mused.

Chris groaned and covered his eyes. “Jesus, Zach. That’s basically what got me into this whole mess in the first place.”

Zach was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was low, seductive. “Why don’t you come over here, and I’ll get you into another mess right now.”

Chris took a deep breath and made a decision. He turned away from the window and moved toward the bed, so quickly that Zach seemed taken aback. Exactly what he wanted. He scrambled across the mattress on his knees and switched on the bedside lamp, bathing them in a warm glow, before pressing a hard kiss to Zach’s lips. 

“Chris?”

Chris finished the kiss with another touch of their lips and moved back, settling himself on his elbows between Zach’s legs. He reached for the waistband of Zach’s boxers.

“Chris,” Zach said, and this time he sounded more concerned than confused. “Are you sure?”

The first time Chris had tried giving Zach a blowjob, he’d gone into a full-blown panic attack, vision going black around the edges as the world seemed to expand and contract around him. He’d ended up curled at Zach’s feet, arms wrapped tightly around himself as he struggled to pull air into his lungs.

Zach had held him tightly, talked him through it with calming words, and didn’t ask questions. Chris had tried a few more times, always against Zach’s protests, and stopped before it got too bad. But he was finished with that now, he’d decided. It was time to break Dylan’s last hold on him.

He pressed his face against Zach’s pelvis and murmured his name. Zach’s fingers stroked softly over his hair in return.

“I’m right here, Chris. Take your time,” Zach murmured, though his subtle shift against the pillows told Chris he was eager for what was to come. Chris appreciated the knowledge, and he showed it by pressing his lips to the base of Zach’s cock and working his way up, until he could flick his tongue out to lick at Zach’s slit. 

“Nngf.” The stifled moan brought a smile to Chris’s lips, and he paused to glance up at Zach with mischief in his eyes. “Tease,” Zach said, but he was smiling down at him, and Chris was thrilled to find that not only was he still breathing, but he that was actually smiling back. 

He kept his eyes on Zach for as long as he could, mouthing up his length again and catching the velvety head between his lips. He was slobbering probably a little more than was sexy, but Zach didn’t seem to mind. Chris wrapped his fingers around the base of Zach’s cock, twisting and tugging at the spit-moistened shaft. Zach shifted again, bucking under him the tiniest bit, and his faltering restraint sent a surge of pride through Chris. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds that Zach was making, little hisses of breath and quiet moans, a whispered “Shit, yeah” when Chris lowered his mouth and sucked a little harder. Thank god he still remembered how to keep his teeth out of the way. The thought came to him out of nowhere, and with it a tumble of unwanted images, a sour smell, the sound of Dylan’s voice urging him on… He pulled off quickly, squeezing his eyes shut as a wave of nausea washed over him.

“Hey, Chris-“ Zach was immediately alert, rubbing a hand over Chris’s back, “it’s okay, hey, it’s me, you’re okay-“

Chris gritted his teeth. No – he was not going to let this happen, not this time. He growled and Zach yanked his hand away, making it that much easier for Chris to lean down and take him in again, bobbing his head with a renewed urgency that made Zach moan and thrust, cutting off any protests he might have had. Chris nudged his fingers clumsily against Zach’s ass as he sucked, and he was rewarded with another groan. He was determined to get Zach off this way, needed to know he could, so when Zach clutched at his hair and said, “Chris, I’m gonna-“, he was ready, and he eagerly swallowed down every drop of the load that Zach shot into his waiting mouth.

“That was amazing,” Zach panted. Chris looked up at him from where he’d flopped back onto a pillow, bathed in the lamplight, sweat glistening on his chest. “You’re amazing.” 

Chris’s heart felt like it was beating a thousand times per minute, and his body hummed with exhilaration. He’d done it, and it had been fine; apparently, it had been _amazing_. Now there was nothing they couldn’t do. He met Zach’s eyes with a satisfied grin. “Can I fuck you now?”

Zach laughed and slid down beside Chris to kiss him, pressing a tongue greedily into his mouth. His hand trailed down Chris’s chest and abs to cup loosely over his cock. Chris was aching, desperate, and he knew Zach could tell, because he wasted no time, only lingering a little longer in the kiss before he pulled away to find the lube. Before he could move toward the bedside table, Chris grabbed for his arm, made him lean in close so Chris could whisper in his ear.

“Trite romantic expression.”

“Return of your affections,” Zach murmured back with a smile, and Chris let him go, falling back onto the pillows. He felt more content than he had in a long time, and though there was still a tickle of anxiety in his stomach, one that he supposed might never disappear entirely, it was enough that he could forget at times like this, like when Zach was wrapping lube-covered fingers around his cock, making him gasp and squirm with desire and anticipation.

He scooted up against the headboard because he wanted to be able to hold Zach in his arms, wanted to watch Zach’s face as he sank down onto Chris’s shaft with an easy moan. Zach’s arms slid around his shoulders until they were wrapped around each other, moving together in a halo of lamplit bliss. 

They’d gotten tested, of course, soon after everything had happened, after they’d spoken with the police, while Dylan was still awaiting trial. It was strange, Chris thought sometimes, how after everything, _this_ was what they did the most. He was still a little surprised by how much he enjoyed it, fucking, but maybe it made sense, the way they wanted to be as close as possible, without even a thin layer of latex separating them. Sure, they settled for the occasional handjob when the timing or location demanded, but even then sometimes they couldn’t help themselves. At least once a week would find them pressed up against the front door as one of them was on the way out in the morning, fully clothed, no prep, rough and sweet, the result of a goodbye kiss that neither of them could bring themselves to end. 

Zach moved on Chris’s cock, his pace excruciatingly slow, accompanied by a kiss that had their tongues battling for space in each others’ mouths. Chris didn’t want to break it but he had to, pulling away in order to breathe as the pleasure built slowly, drop by red-hot drop. So familiar and yet so devastatingly perfect every time, the way he could feel Zach clenching around him, that slow friction, until he couldn’t take it any more and had to thrust up his hips, grunting shamelessly as he filled Zach up, again and again. Zach whispered against his neck, the words tickling his skin, dirty and sweet, telling him everything he’d ever wanted to hear. He swallowed, throat bobbing beneath Zach’s lips, and suddenly they were moving faster, Zach riding him hard and Chris pushing up beneath him in response. Chris’s hands slid across Zach’s back, clutching at him until he got a hold, and clinging for dear life as he spilled into Zach with a shout.

They slid beneath the blankets without bothering to clean up, content to leave the traces of one another on their skin until the morning. Chris curled against Zach, who kissed his ear and whispered “Leave the light on?” Zach snuggled closer at his nod, and Chris took a breath like he wanted to say something, to thank Zach or to say some magic words that signified some kind of threshold, some beginning or end of things. But his eyes were fluttering shut, and the words wouldn’t come.

Chris let himself drift quietly into sleep, knowing that Zach would still be there when he remembered what he’d wanted to say.

 

_**The End** _


End file.
